Contents

Since 1970, the Federal Witness Protection Program has relocated thousands of witnesses, some criminal, some not, to neighborhoods all across the country. Every one of those individuals shares a unique attribute, distinguishing them from the rest of the general population; and that is somebody wants them dead.

Marshall: As I was saying, imagery and metaphor have been used to sell products forever.

Mary: Please, Jesus, take me now.

Marshall: Take the Ford Mustang, for instance. It's named for a powerful and agile animal, qualities we also seek in an automobile. It's called transference.

Mary: Okay, what about my Probe? Exactly what image is that supposed to transfer? Because all I'm getting is a paper dress, metal stirrups, and legs akimbo. Exactly what was the thought process behind that marketing coup? Say, Bob, what's a metaphor for an invasive, somewhat humiliating procedure, because we really need something to compete with the Chevy Speculum.

Mary: The care and feeding of career criminals like Frankie Nuts is a dicey proposition at best. On any given day, I get to play mother, father, best friend, priest, rabbi, marriage counselor, and yes unfortunately occasionally homicide detective which is why I find myself driving my misogynist metaphor across the desert with a busted air conditioner to hunt down the murderer of the son of my murderer witness. No backup. No plan to speak of. No alternative. Also, Frankie Jr. got killed on my watch. That just pisses me off.

Marshall: Are you going to be like this all day?

Mary: Like what?

Marshall: [Makes cat fighting noise]

Mary: Guess it depends on how long it's going to be my birthday.

Marshall: All day.

Mary: There you go.

Mary: Before you hear it from someone else, I smacked an indian's johnson with a bar of soap today.

Marshall: Haven't we done enough to those people?

Mary: [Voiceover] The Federal Witness Protection Program is the most secretive organization in all of law enforcement. We do not talk about what we do. Not to friends, not to family, not even to other U.S. Marshals. Which is why my mother, my sister, and even my boyfriend, who by the way isn't really my boyfriend, all think I'm a glorified messenger with a gun. And why Marshall and I work on the roof of the Sunshine Building, while the rest of the U.S. Marshals reside in the Pete Domenici Federal Courthouse, with their mahogany desks, crystal chandeliers and butlers.

Mary: I just want to wash the stench of this day off and go to bed.

Marshall: I know, but there are about sixty people in there hiding behind furniture, just waiting for you to open the door so they can jump up and say surprise.

Mary: Yuck.

Marshall: Come on, it's your birthday. This isn't about you. Now get ready to act surprised.

Mary: All right, all right.

Marshall: That's my girl.

Mary: [Voiceover] We all live in hiding. In one way or another, each of us conceals pieces of ourselves from the rest of the world. Some people hide because their lives depend on it, others because they don't like being seen. And then there are the special cases, the ones who hide because... because... because they just want someone to care enough to look for them.

Mary: "Happily ever after", the big lie. Those three insidious words, repeated again and again, promising myself and a gazillion other little girls that some day, sure as the sunset, a man prettier than ourselves would sweep us away. To live our lives forever and a day. Blah blah, blah. Never once mentioning the years of quiet desperation that surely followed. Which is why I pray with all my soul that whoever invented the lethal mantra "happily ever after" died penniless, face down in the gutter, with cats gnawing on his ears.

Mary: Now then, I want you to understand something. This program is an opportunity very few people get. A shot at fresh start; a do-over of your entire life, but it only works if you make the decision to be a better human being than you've been and allow the possibility of something greater for yourself. And as impossible as it may seem, I've seen even bigger scumbags than you do just that and make it stick.

Mary: [Voiceover] Funny how things like mortgage payments and a desire to not eat cat food can get between a person and their principles. Damn, I hate principles.

Mary: [Voiceover] If there's one thing working in witness protection has taught me it's that people hate change. Oh, we all say we want to change; get thinner, quit smoking, learn to speak Portuguese, but we don't. For better or worse, our habits define us. We turn the pages of the same tattered script over and over, clinging to our well rehearsed routines like barnacles, and nothing rankles us more than having to learn new lines.

Marshall: What exactly is your beef with humanity?

Mary: I have no beef with humanity. It's people I can't stand.

Mary: [On the phone] Hey, Stan, it's Mary. Imagine my surprise when Kay Swenson showed up drunk at Jay Arnstein's gallery and got into a fistfight with Marci Arnstein. Who could have possibly predicted that deceiving a witness and helping her husband commit adultery with his tramp mistress would end badly? You'd have to be a genius to see that one coming, right? Anyway, Stan, I'll need immediate relocation authorization. Call me! Bye!

Detective Dershowitz: Okay, what is taking you so long? Can't you go any faster?

Mary: I could, but then I'd miss the fun of watching you lapse into hysteria.

Mary: [Voiceover] We've all had the experience of talking about a long-lost friend with someone, and then out of the blue the phone rings and it's that same long-lost friend. Famous psychobabble quack Carl Jung called these occurrences "synchronicity." Skeptics regard these synchronicities events as mere coincidences. Others posit a pie-in-the-sky cosmic connection linking all things. Take a guess on which side of the argument I fall.

Mary: Hey there, Socrates. What brings you to these hallowed halls? Boning up on your philosophy? Taking an oral exam? Having sex with your old professor?

Marshall: Okay, get it out of your system.

Mary: Look at you. All blushy.

Jinx: [Holding an old photograph of Mary and her father] Look at this one. I think you were four, maybe five here.

Mary: I don't remember this.

Jinx: Your father hit corner at Belmont, went shopping at Berghoff's. Eight dollars for a little girl's dress. I almost killed him. The way he fawned. Isn't that crazy? A mother being jealous of her four-year-old daughter.

Mary: One way or another, I am going to nail that guy. I mean literally, fillet him, nail his hide to a tree, spread it with jam and watch the squirrels go to town.

Mary: He called me ma'am.

Marshall: Yeah, but he was looking down your shirt when he said it.

Mary: Why are you being so nice to me?

Mary: [Voiceover] At first glance, one might suppose me walking into the middle of Chris's gambling problem and the arrival of the FBI letter about my father, the gambler, to be cosmically connected events. And who knows, maybe they are. But in the end, the whole happenstance versus master plan debate probably a big waste of time. All that really matters is that we cross paths at an auspicious time. Chris was lucky. He got off with a year suspension, but will still be able to play his senior year. As for me, well...

Mary: [Voiceover] I think my least favorite phrase in the human language is "I'm sorry." Nine times out of ten when a person says they're sorry, they're really only sorry they got caught, and now want me to forgive them for something I'm still pissed off about. Which puts me in the unhappy position of either saying, "Up yours" and looking like a total bitch, or saying, "I forgive you" and feeling like a total schmuck. And that's why I hate the phrase...

Mary: I’m sorry, but that stewardess had a bad attitude, plain and simple. I don’t know how you can defend that behavior.

Marshall: Did it ever occur to you that perhaps our flight attendant didn’t appreciate being called “stewardess”?

Marshall: And for the record, there was no "hitting on" taking place. Just a little bit of old fashioned common courtesy.

Mary: Really? So you think an invitation to join the mile high club is old fashioned? All right, maybe that's what passes for courtesy these days. Just not what I'd call kickin' the friendly skies old school. And by the way...if the stewardess finds the job title so objectionable, maybe he should have chosen another line of work.

Marshall: That was beautiful. Bach, suite number three? Not something I've heard on piano before.

Lily: Oh, it was my sister's cello piece. I was just fooling around.

Mary: [Voiceover] People generally think of forgiveness as the flip side of contrition, the obligatory response to an apology. It is not. To forgive is to answer the call of our better angels and bear our wounds as the cost of doing business. It is that rarest of things, simple and pure...transcendent... without strings.

Mary: [Voiceover] Okay, so Don's a little anal, and maybe Ruth's a bit of a ball buster. Who isn't ? Still, you gotta wonder, if such good people with so much in common can't find happiness together, what hope is there for the rest of us ?

Mary: Please explain, in God's name, why you two don't get a divorce. You make each other miserable. Please don't say it's because you're catholic. Lots of catholics get divorced these days. Hell, I'm catholic, I plan on getting divorced one day.

Donald Ferguson: It'll be a lucky man who divorces you.

Mary: Damn straight.

Mary: He was one of the few truly good, selfless people I've ever met.

Mary: What?! I just spent two days running all over creation thinking you were kidnapped or dead! Half the hobos in Albuquerque are in mourning and Cook's facing murder charges, and you have the balls to shush me?

Mary: [Voiceover] According to the gospel of Don, God told Don to free himself and Ruth from the surly bonds of their loveless marriage. He said that their union had fulfilled his purpose. And now Don was to leave Ruth with the belief he had perished so that they might both go out and find happiness on earth. Don, being the lord's faithful servant, was loathe to disobey. Before Don limped off into the desert night, he asked God, "Lord, you have commanded me to be happy, but you haven't told me how. "Please, Lord, what does it take for two people to be happy?" But the Lord had said all that he would say.

Mary: [Voiceover] Every day we make hundreds of choices. Most of them innocuous either or kind of decisions, like, "should I turn right or left?" others require a bit more thought, like, "should I order the bacon-cheeseburger," which I love or some low fat flavorless salad "which I know is better for me but will ultimately leave me unsatisfied?" and then there are those really tough choices...

Marshall: I brought you coffee and a bagel.

Mary: You suck.

Marshall: Excuse me? Aw, are you still on the juice fast? Aren't you crabby enough without adding Spirulina to the mix?

Mary: Bite me. I'm trying to do something healthy for a change.

Marshall: Why?

Mary: Why? How about because being healthy is better than not being healthy.

Marshall: It doesn't suit you. It seems oddly out of character. Kind of unsettling.

Mary: Did you ever stop to think that what's in character for me isn't working for me? I'm 35-ish, I don't have a boyfriend, I live by myself, I go to work, come home, go to work. Is it so beyond the realm of reason that I want just a little bit more from my life, or is that just too much for you to wrap your little pea-brain around?

Marshall: I've gotta believe this is the Spirulina talking.

Mary: Got three bedrooms. Check this out. One is my bedroom. One is my office and the other is I have no idea. How great is that? I have got an entire room with no defined purpose. I can fill it with Corn Flakes if I wanted.

Marshall: I'm not sure this neighborhood is zoned for Corn Flakes but an intriguing notion none the less.

Mary: Okay then. Sand. I can fill it with sand. Better yet, bullets. You can never have too many bullets. That's my bullet room. I have a bullet room.

Marshall: Well, as long as it's something practical.

Marshall: You can stop thinking whatever it is you're thinking.

Robert Eps: Oh, come on, man. You mean to tell me you have a partner that looks like that and you still get pissy when guys check her out? Maybe you're the one who needs to stop thinking what you're thinking.

Marshall: Why don't you go on home?

Mary: Nope.

Marshall: I don't get it. So what if your mom showed up unannounced. She just wanted to surprise you.

Mary: There are two kinds of surprises, Marshall: birthday and Pearl Harbor. Guess which category the "mom surprise" falls under? It doesn't matter. I hate them both.

Marshall: Well you can't stay here forever.

Mary: No, but I think I can do a week. I bet if I don't show up for a week she'll run out of food and booze and leave.

Mary: Wow. It looks like somebody kicked the crap out of you.

Det. Roxanne Lewis: You hit like a girl.

Mary: Thanks, you too.

Det. Dershowitz: Let's not start accusing people until we have the proper evidence.

Mary: [Voiceover] Perhaps the most difficult choices to make are the ones that deny us those things our heart wants most because as it's been said, "Without reason nor prudence, the heart wants what the heart wants and more often than not, it will not be denied.

Mary: Tasha's so excited for me to meet her new boyfriend. It's really sweet. Oh, God. I hope we didn't miss him. I don't know why I'm always late with her.

Marshall: Habitual lateness most often manifests in people with control issues.

Mary: Oh, God.

Marshall: By arriving late on scheduled appointments you cause the person with whom the appointment was made to wait, for you, thereby controlling his or her behavior. Classic passive aggressive pathology.

Mary: When have you ever known me to be passive about anything?

Mary: [to Marshall] I love you like an eight dollar whore.

Marshall: [smiles] I'm sure you mean that in a good way.

Marshall: SwifferMuseum.com. Why? How? Why?

Mary: What about KnittingWholesale.com? Maybe he's trying to lure old women into the lurid world of cross-stitching.

Mary: After dropping Brandi off at the airport to fly home to her schemy boyfriend, Chuck, with a ticket I paid for no less, only to discover her hours later at Raf's with her head in his lap, no less, an idea has formed, a realization if you will. I don't know. Anyway, here it is: My family will be the death of me and I don't mean in that "you kids will rue the day kind of way." No. I'm talking about knocking on Heaven's door, charge the beach at Normandy, shuffle off that mortal coil deceased but the real epiphany is I have absolutely no say in the matter. I wonder why I'm not more upset?

Jinx: Mary. Oh, Sweetheart. I didn't know. But... To be fair, you make it impossible for people to know. Y-y-you come home and say y-you're fine... You're just a little tired... Which is pretty much how you come home everynight. How are people supposed to know what you're going through?

Mary: People aren't. Why does everyone have to know what everyone else is going through? It seems intrusive.

Jinx: Sharing the details of our lives... Is how we connect to the world.

Mary: The world is full of assholes. Why would I want to connect with that?

Jinx: Oh, honey... You don't have to open up to the whole world. You just have to open up with someone.

Jinx: That first week after he left, you were so distraught. You thought it was your fault. That you had done something to make him go away. I just wanted to make you feel better. I made up this story about how you were daddy's favorite. How he loved you the most, and you had this special bond that couldn't be broken no matter how far away he was. The truth is, he loved you like he loved the rest of us. No more, no less. I'm sorry we were lying to you then, and I'm sorry about having to tell you the truth now. But I thought you would eventually realize what a fairytale this all was.

Mary: Oh, mom. That must have been so hard for you. Wait. I want to share something with you. Stay there. [Leaves the room]

Jinx: [To Brandi] I needed to do that. It was necessary.

Brandi: I think it's good that she heard it.

Mary: Sorry, you don't get to rewrite history. [Puts wooden box on the table]

Brandi: What's that?

Mary: Open it.

Jinx: What are these?

Mary: Letters I've received from daddy over the last twenty years or so. How many has he sent you guys?

Stan: Her name is Eleanor Prince. She was the administrator to the FBI HQ in Phoenix for eight years. Her husband was a field agent and got killed last year in an auto accident.

Marshall: You realize Mary is going to have a problem with this.

Stan: It crossed my mind. You have to get her to accept Eleanor.

Marshall: Shall I teach her to levitate while I'm at it? Come on. You know Mary doesn't like new people.

Mary: [Det. Dershowitz and Marshall hugged] What the hell was that?

Marshall: We bonded over your near death experience.

Mary: And you became black in the process?

Det. Dershowitz: Honorary

Marshall: It's very exciting.

Mary: [sarcastically] I'll bet.

Mary: Actually I'm in a really good mood... which is kind weird if you consider where I was 48-hours ago; and then I have a witness off herself; and if that's not bad enough I have to play second fiddle to a guy like you.

Marshall: Thanks for lumping me in with kidnapping, attempted rape, and suicide, can't tell you how much that means.

Det. Dershowitz: So do you like any of them for this?

Marshall: It's hard to find a motive for murder. I suppose any of them could have assisted.

Mary: When I kill my mother there will be no doubt as to who did it.

Eleanor: Can I get you anything, chief?

Stan: Um, no. No, thank you.

Eleanor: Sir, you didn't do anything wrong. They were both out of line.

Stan: Mrs. Prince. When I came into this office ten years ago I had twice as many inspectors handling half as many witnesses and it was still too many, which is why I'm so grateful you're here. I hope you won't take this the wrong way, but when I want an opinion on matters of my inspectors, I'll ask. Okay?

Eleanor: Are you sure I can't get you anything?

Stan: Yeah, a cup of coffee would be great.

Mary: Second bottle, mom?

Jinx: For those keeping score.

Mary: [To Marshall] Second bottle is the ironic Jinx. You want to be gone by number three.

Marshall: Say no more, and you go to bed.

Mary: Yeah, yeah. Don't worry, I'm fine.

Marshall: I know, and you need to remember that. Whatever's happening inside your head needs to happen. Now just let it flow. Be the river.

Mary: Don't be a retard. I can't be the river.

Marshall: You can be the river!

Mary: Okay, but not today. Tomorrow I'll be the river.

Marshall: That a girl.

Mary: [Voiceover] My addled brain tries to connect the dots, wondering how it is we've come to this place. Cold, stark blue-light lodging, indifferent to hope, desire, love, lacking all but the most basic amenities. ... Perhaps this stainless steel and formaldehyde rest stop stands as a post-mortem reminder ... a kind of finger-wagging, refrigerated warning hung for all to see. ... For those inclined to feed the bears, beat the light, traverse thin ice, run with scissors, get rich quick: Here but for the grace of God goes you.

Mary: It’s been said neurotics build castles in the sky, psychotics live in them and psychiatrists collect the rent. I wonder who they call for home repair?

Mary: Man, oh, man, O'Connor. You FBI guys. I've been on the job for five years. I don't even have a cubicle. You've been in town, what, six minutes? You have a private office? Now how is that fair? By the way, I was just wondering when you think I can expect a crew at my house to fix your mess.

Agent O'Connor: Actually, I was just going to call you about that. I'm looking into the first of week of when hell freezes over. Does that work for you? Because if not I can reschedule.

Mary: No, that's about what I expected. Yeah, so in the meantime I'll just store some of my stuff here. [Dumps a box full of sheetrock and insulation on O'Connor's desk] Does that work for you?

Mary: Okay, you know what, Eleanor? I've tried to be nice. Cut you some slack because you're new, but this is it. I've had it.

Eleanor: I'm sorry, when was it that you tried to to be nice? I must have missed that.

Mary: Yeah, probably because nothing can penetrate that helmet of hairspray and noxious cloud of perfume surrounding you.

Eleanor: Excuse me.

Mary: What?!

Eleanor: Inspector, certain other persons around here might be afraid of you, walk on egg shells. God forbid anyone should upset her highness, but I'm not one of them. You are a bully and you're spoiled and for some reason you have been given a pass on rude behavior, but I won't put up with it. It's unacceptable.

Mary: You think I give a rat's ass what you will or won't put up with, Eleanor?

Marshall: Amnesia, huh?

Mary: Don't you dare laugh.

Marshall: I would never. Although, it is surprising this hasn't happened before, considering how many people would like to forget they ever met you.

Mary: Took you a long time to think of that one, didn't it?

Marshall: Almost an hour.

Mary: [Speaking to witness Jerry Royal] I know you want to be brave. I know you do. Everybody does.

Mary: [Voiceover] I wonder how it could be, all of us quaking cowards, hiding under covers one day, storming beaches the next, shrinking violets impossibly frail. Our best days spent unquestioning, hurtling into hailstorms, the rest just spent. Opposite extremes, half definitions of the same thing, an inexplicable paradox perhaps best left in a bowl full of kibble to be lapped up by Schrödinger's cat.

Mary: [Voiceover] I've gazed into the eyes of contract killers… listening to them explain they were only trying to feed their kids. Con artists who insist that it's the mark's fault for being so stupid. And Dylan fans in the face of overwhelming evidence to the contrary, defend their love of "Down in the groove". Yes, it's a rare person who admits they're a heartless, greedy bastard possessing absolutely no musical taste.

Mary: I want you both to promise to shoot me in the head if I ever have three kids.

Marshall: Yeah, all right.

Stan: Okay.

Mary: Thanks.

Maureen: You are a Godsend.

Mary: That's what I keep telling everyone.

Peter: Where's your partner? The nice one?

Mary: I don't know. I think he's avoiding you.

Mary: Tripp, you know this act won't last. Okay, the other night? That was your future. As soon as this new guy bails dash.

Tripp Stewart: It doesn't matter. I'm not going to walk out on them. I know she's a wreck, but she's got to have somebody to come home to or all falls apart.

Mary: Wait. Okay, so you're going to destroy your life so your mother has a shoulder to cry on? Please, please, please don't do this. It's not worth it. In the end she'll resent you for it. Trust me, I've been there. I'm still there.

Tripp: I'm not you. This is different. I'm different.

Mary: Really? How so? Name one way that this is different. That your situation is different from mine?

Tripp: It's different because I have you.

Mary: [voiceover] One of the most difficult moments in anyone's life is when the fog of childhood lifts and we see for the first time our parents as people.

Mary: Again with the manners? I'm not here 30 seconds, you're kickin' me out! What, were you raised by guinea pigs? [slips and falls down the rubble] Okay, okay, I might have just soiled myself.

Lewis Ford: [wincing in pain] Don't make me laugh!

Mary: So this is your new place? [slowly makes her way towards Lewis, who's buried in rubble] It's very industrial retro.

Lewis Ford: Where's my housewarming gift?

Mary: I never did get why when someone buys a new house you're supposed to buy them a present. I mean, why not just put a tip jar by the door?

Lewis Ford: Thanks for coming, but you need to get outta here, the whole building's gonna come down.

Mary: Quit being such a drama queen Lewis, we'll both be outta here in no time. You should see the show out there. [finally arrives at Lewis's side] So, you know, where's it hurt? I mean, other than everywhere?

Mary: [grabbing a medical bag that the doctor has thrown down] Please God let there be a ham sandwich in that bag. Okay Doc, walk me through this.

Doctor: Before you do anything, you need to put on a pair of surgical gloves.

Mary: No glove, no love.

Doctor: You're not allergic to latex, are you?

Mary: If I had a nickel for every time I've been asked that question...

Lewis Ford: If I wasn't dying, you'd be funny.

Mary: You're not dying. This was all just a ruse to get me to play doctor.

Stan: [speaking of Mary] Yes, Mr. Mayor, I'm still here. Why is she there? Well, Mr. Mayor, she assessed the situation and took a quick, calculated risk and put her life on the line. Quite frankly, sir, no one else had the balls.

Lewis Ford: What would you do if your partner committed a crime? What would you do? Answer the question, Mary.

Mary: I would stand by him. No matter what, because that's what partners do. You said it yourself: At the end of the day, all that matters you and your partner. You turned on your partner. The second things got ugly, Lewis. The one constant that gets me through it all, the only reason that makes it okay for me to be up here with a worm like you, is I have a partner who has my back, 24/7, no matter what. ... Oh, and Marshall, for the record, I'd sell you out for a Twinkie.

Mary: [Voiceover] I yearn for blind devotion; unthinking, unwavering. A cause, a thing, a principle worthy of absolute loyalty. The truth self medicating, a love unabating, something, anything to which relinquish all personal responsibility. Semper fi. Till death do us part. In nomine patris. Let's go Mets. To the true believers, the lucky few, of thee I sing.

Brandi: Um, I don't know, I think it's a football game. The Governer's Bowl?

Jinx: The Governor's Ball?

Brandi: [shrugs] Maybe.

Jinx: Monkey! Monkey, the Governor's Ball is the biggest social event of the season!

Brandi: What?! Get out!

Mary: And it's all happening here at Barbie's Dream House!

Mary: [wakes up suddenly to find Brandi going through her closet] You know I sleep with a loaded gun next to me, right?

Marshall: [Speaking of Rabbi Garfinkle] How did he know to have her in Albuquerque?

Mary: He's got magical powers. It's the only explanation.

Avi Roth: How could God do this to me?

Rabbi Garfinkle: Excuse me? God? Your wife and your unborn child lie on the operating table, maybe dying, and you ask God how he can do this to you? You schmuck. God gave you life. God gave you a brain in your head. That's it. The beginning, the middle, the end of all God did to you. All the rest, Avi, the lying, the cheating, stealing, that's all on you, you self-involved child. What are you going to do? Spend the rest of your life trying to find someone else to blame? Or do you think that maybe it's time that you use that brain in your head that God gave you?

Marshall: So how are things with Jinx?

Mary: Weird.

Marshall: She drinking?

Mary: No, not as far as I can tell. She actually seems to be trying pretty hard not to.

Marshall: And that's a problem because...?

Mary: Because eventually she will.

Marshall: Eventually we're all gonna get sick and die. It doesn't mean you can't...

Mary: Make hay while the sun shines ?

Marshall: Yeah. Less trite. Why don't you talk to the rabbi about it ?

Mary: [to Stan] If you go to jail, he becomes my boss, and then I have to kill myself.

Marshall: Thanks. I appreciate that.

Eleanor: I'm the new office administrator.

Det. Dershowitz: You have my deepest sympathy.

Eleanor: Clearly, I committed war crimes in a past life.

Mary: The comedy stylings of Dull and Duller!

Mary: [Voiceover] I once dated a man who taught quantum physics. I learned two things that night. The first being, if you ask a quantum physicist to explain how gravity works—not what it is, not how it behaves, but how it works—he will first talk himself in circles, then wind up crying, and finally, sometime between entree and dessert, call you a bitch and leave.

. . .

The second revelation came as I sat at the bar in morose solitude, pondering the cantilevered relationship between bartenders' gut and lower extremities, and this is important, so pay attention: before the big bang, before time itself, before matter, energy, velocity, there existed a single immeasurable state called yearning. This is the special force that on the day before days obliterated nothing into everything. It is the unseen strings tying planets to stars. It is the maddening want we feel from from first breath to last light.

Peter: Look, before I got sober, my life was a series of self implosions. Every time I got within sight of something I really wanted, I'd throw a landmine in my own path to make sure I never achieved it. And I just think that you need someone to help you avoid your own landmines, to help you believe you deserve some of those things that you really want.

Brandi: Oh and you think you are one of those things that I really want, Mr. Conceited?

Peter: Why wouldn't I be? I don't know if you've noticed, but I'm quite a catch.

Mary: Sorry, I couldn't help myself. It's the Fliegler, it's so damn powerful.

Marshall: She had the same problem with her gun when she first started.

Brandi: [Mary has asked Brandi to get a set of plans out of the backseat of her car that are underneath a model bridge. Brandi thinks Mary is joking about the bridge until she opens Mary's trunk] I'll be damned. It's a bridge.

Marshall: We build our house on these manifold truths: rough hewn and perfect, like the ashlars of Solomon's temple. He is to be condemned, but also deeply pitied. Wrong and injustice once done cannot be undone, but are eternal in their consequences. Without verity, there is no justice.

Marshall: Everyone has failures in life. Ultimately all of us fail. The aqueducts of Rome will fail! Who we are, the standards by which we are measured lies in our response to those failures. My dad used to tell me you don't fail until you quit.

Mary: [voiceover] People talk too much. People think too much. We're all village idiots, enamored with our shadows, oblivious to the setting sun.

Mary: Stan and Eleanor what? Are they fighting? [excitedly] Is she getting fired?

Marshall: No, but there's definitely something going on between them.

Mary: Really, gidget? Is she wearing his ring?

Marshall: Ridicule if you must, but I see what I see.

Mary: You see what you want to see. You've got to wonder what that would look like. Stan and Eleanor, doing it.

Marshall: Why do you always have to take it to an ugly place?

Mary: I'll bet she's an animal. It's always the prim ones.

Eleanor: Goodnight.

Marshall: Night!

Mary: Leaving so early? What? Hot date? Bend your man to your Mrs. Robinson, yearning to be schooled in the ways of love?

Eleanor: Don't I wish. Unfortunately, just me and the Tivo tonight.

Mary: Excellent, then you can help me with some research.

Eleanor: How did I not see that coming?

Dennis: I would make such a good friend... but the harder I try to make them like me, the more they...push me away.

Marshall: Believe me, I know...how hard it is not to chase after the things you want the most. But I learned when I was a kid if your dog runs away, don't chase after him. Run away from him, and he'll start chasing you.

Mary: Why weren't we told he had a son? Yeah and the Dog ate my homework. Listen numb-nuts I don't think you're seeing the big picture here. Your conviction relies on the testimony of a witness who lost his home, his friends, his job, and now thanks to your ineptitude, his son. But here's the part you should really be focusing on come trial time brings me ball punching distance to you...Yeah good idea. You look into it. [hangs up] Idiot.

[Stan hands Mary a Paper]

Mary: What's this?

Stan: While you were verbally spanking the future ex-governor of Illinois, I obtained a copy of the paperwork he sent to Ed's wife.

Mary: So there was paperwork filed.

Eleanor: Would you like me to get him on the phone so that you can apologize or just send a card?

Mary: No, let's go with the card this time. [to Stan] Hey, look no there's no signature. It never went through.

Stan: Oh, it happens sometimes, just have to track her down and get her sign it.

Eleanor: So cancel the card?

Mary: Yeah, think so.

Mary: So, let's see. The men involved in the car-theft ring you're supposed to testify against are all in jail awaiting trial, which is good. That said, they worked for an international operation that had contacts in Europe, Asia and South America. Not so good.

Ed Flint: How long am I going to be in witness protection?

Marshall: We're kind of like the mafia: once you're in, you're in. Except we don't kill you if you decide to leave.

[Mary has just taken a rancher's ATV and is searching for a witness]

Rancher: She better get back before night.

Stan: Why? What happens at night?

Rancher: It gets dark.

[Marshall and Mary have just caught Stan calling Eleanor "Hon"]

Eleanor: So what's the big deal? It's just a friendly salutation like, "Hey hon, can you bring me the forms we filed?"

Mary: Oh, I see. [to Marshall] Like when you call me "Snuggles," or when Stan refers to you as his "Butterscotch Stallion."

Mary: Does Miles have a favorite constellation?

Ed Flint: Yeah. Hercules.

Mary: Which one's that? I've never been able to see those things.

Ed Flint: Hercules is there. See it?

Mary: All I see is a random arrangement of dots light years apart. I tend to see things as they are. No magic or no shine.

Ed Flint: Do you like being that way?

Mary: Sometimes it's good. Sometimes it's not so good. My dad used to tell me we don't need magic as long as we've got — anyway. Sometimes I wish there was just a little magic.

Mary: [on the phone] Raph pick up. I know you're there. Your mother's goat is still on my stove and that's not a sentence I ever wanna say again.

Marshall: If some guy bought you two $10,000 bags wouldn't you tell your best girl friend all about it?

Mary: C'mon Eleanor, man up.

Eleanor: Mary doesn't have a best girl friend.

Mary: Doesn't that feel better?

[DINNER ENGAGEMENT]

Josefina: The four days it takes to prepare this feast is... is symbolic of the love and commitment and hard work it takes for man and woman to become husband and wife, to make a marriage that blossoms into a family, which over time flourishes like a well-tended garden and continues for generation upon generation. Mary and mi Raphael... taking part in this sacred ritual is our purpose in this life. It is the most important thing we will ever do, and it's our one true joy.

Mary: Thank you, Josefina, for sharing that. Till now I wasn't really aware of the significance of all this. But now that I am aware, I can't imagine taking part under false pretenses.

Jinx: Mary.

Josefina: I don't understand.

Mary: Raphael and I are not engaged. We never were, and I don't know that we ever will be.

Raphael: Mama, I can explain.

Josefina: No, be quiet, Raphael. Let her speak.

Mary: Several months ago, Raphael proposed to me, and I said no. And he didn't want to tell you because he thought if you knew, you wouldn't like me. Sorry. Should never have let it go this far.

Raphael: Could you excuse us for a minute, please?

Jinx: Excuse us. Excuse us. Sorry, sorry. Josefina. I'm so sorry.

Raphael: How could you do that, after hearing how important this is for her?

Mary: How could I not? How could you let her put so much of herself into something that's a complete lie?

Raphael: Because she's been looking forward to it for a long time. And if it makes her happy to believe it for a little while, then what's the harm? Just because it's not important to you...

Mary: Not important? Is that what you think? Have you been listening at all?

Raphael: Yes.

Mary: I believe everything she said. Why do you think I threw that stupid ring in your face? I take all of this, these traditions, very seriously. So the notion of making a mockery out of them makes me angry. Check that, it makes me sad.

Raphael: Okay. You wanna be honest? Let's be honest. You threw the ring at my face because you're afraid of commitment. It doesn't take a genius to figure out. Your father abandoned you, so then you won't let anybody else ever hurt you like that again.

Mary: You know what? You're right. I never got over the hurt of my father leaving me, and I don't ever want to go through that again. But I am not afraid of commitment. It's just that with the possible exception of Marshall, I seem to be the only person on the planet who believes you honor your commitments no matter what. And that you don't break a promise because keeping it has become inconvenient. And you don't commit yourself to something as important as marriage because you got called up to the Majors.

Raphael: Well, you won't have to worry about that anymore.

Mary: Why? What are you talking about?

Raphael: I retired.

Mary: What?

Raphael: Yesterday.

Mary: What, you just woke up and decided to quit?

Raphael: No, no, no, not like that. I decided last year after I hurt my knee to give it six months and see how I come back. Then I hurt my hand, so I push it another three months. This decision has been almost a year in the making. Now it's time for me to get on to the next part of my life. And for the record, I bought the ring six months before I asked you to marry me. You are the most difficult woman in the world. But I've known for a long time that I want to spend the rest of my life with you.

Mary: It seems we have a communication problem.

Raphael: Yeah, so it seems.

Mary: Okay then. Stand up.

Raphael: What? What are you doing?

Mary: You think I don't know you carry the stupid thing around with you? Yes.

Mary: Now that you mention it, neither have I, Marshall. It's great to know they're still dispensing valuable advice to new trainees isn't it, Marshall?

Marshall: It sure is, Mary, it sure is.

[Mary is upset with the quality of the new WITSEC video she's been assigned to help with. The dialogue sucks and she's arguing with the director over why he needs to rewrite it]

Mary: Let's see. Maybe now that you've sobered up, you realize it's a piece of crap that will lead new inspectors to believe that their bosses are a bunch of out of touch morons and you'd hate to ruin the surprise.

Marshall: How does a civilian get clearance to shoot a video for a top secret government agency?

Barry Ness: The same as any other independent contractor: a long and tedious vetting process. You'd be amazed at some of the things I've been privy to, but as secretive as the CIA and the rest of them are, nobody's as tight-lipped as you people.

Mary: That's because we actually keep our secrets secret. The CIA clans have more leaks than a men's room at Oktoberfest.

Mary: [to Stan] You saddle me with this task, I swear I'll quit.

Eleanor: Sounds like a win/win to me, chief.

Mary: Everyone says I'm the mean one. I'm not. It's her.

Eleanor: You think I'm mean? [Mary shrugs] I'm not! I was just ... kidding. I thought that was our thing!

Mary: So disappointing. See, just when I thought you were ready to step up your game.

Eleanor: You really are the devil's minion.

Mary: [Watches Eleanor pour a cup of coffee] What's in that?

Eleanor: Coffee.

Mary: Yeah, right. [Pours it in a potted plant]

Marshall: She's got you spooked, doesn't she?

Mary: A little bit.

Marshall: It's fun to watch.

Eleanor: How'd the video shoot go?

Mary: Great. It was just a really long day.

Eleanor: Tom called. Stan knows you got kicked off the set.

Mary: Well, fine. It was the one time I actually didn't cross the line. Everything I said needed saying.

Mary: Jesus, Mary and Joseph. There's like a thousand K. Magnúsdóttir's. I swear to God, if that's not her real name...

Mary: Hey, how do you know how I like my coffee?

Dershowitz: I'm a detective. It's my job to know things.

Mary: You're walking a fine line between cute and creepy, detective.

Mary: [hums while using the telephone]

Marshall: Save that number. It seems to make you happy.

Mary: Hold music. It's from a play I did in high school. I know, hard to believe. While most kids were experimenting with drugs, I was experimenting with musicals. Just as harmful.

Eleanor: [rescuing Marshall's finger] The hardest part is the knuckle. It's sort of like the baby's shoulders in the birthing process.

Mary: Ugh. You have any idea what that makes my ring!

Eleanor: How about a toast? [to Mary, at her office engagement party]

Marshall: Excellent idea. Okay. Here's to the best friend I've ever had. Could ever hope to have. A girl for whom no man will ever be good enough. I hope you know that I love you and I wish for you nothing but a lifetime of happiness.

Mary: Look, Phillip, I've been doing this a while, and I've seen people come into this program and fight like crazy to hang on to their old lives, and I've seen people who couldn't wait to be someone else just to throw away their past. But at the end of the day, you are who you are.

Marshall: A wise man once said, and the truth shall set you free.

Marshall: I know why you told Raphael your big secret: to paint yourself into a corner. Afraid you might back out from marrying him, you told him, so now you have to make it work.

Mary: Congratulations, Matlock. You've keenly observed that I'm somewhat relationship phobic, and yet the conclusion you've drawn couldn't be more off the mark. Marshall, I've spent my entire working life with career criminals: liars, thieves and sociopaths, each of whom knows what I do for a living. And I refuse to accept the notion that these miscreants are somehow more trustworthy than the man I'm going to marry.

Mary: Cheer up. Life sucks, we're all going to die, embrace it! [Notices Stan in a meeting with some people in their conference room] What's with the confab?

Marshall: Well, the bald one is Stan. Otherwise, not a clue.

Francesca: [shouting at her CIA contact in the witness room, as Mary, Marshall and Eleanor listen in] You're sadly mistaken if you think I'm going to sit on the sidelines watching my country's revolution on CNN, while you people install your whole, self serving puppet regime!

Mary: We still do that?

Marshall: Yeah. The sad thing is we don't even use real puppets anymore, just socks with buttons sewn on.

Marshall: It was a bad neighborhood; a bad situation from the get go. The witness should never have been allowed to move there. Mary should never have been put in that position: managing a witness over whom she had no authority!

Stan: I know; I know. I shouldn't have allowed it.

Marshall: I should have stayed; I saw what was going on there. It just -- didn't occur to me.

Stan: Why would it? It's Mary. She's like -- [sighs] I don't know.

Marshall: I know.

Stan: Fierce, you know? Like she's always gonna be the toughest dog in a fight.

Marshall: Boxers call it "the air of invincibility".

Stan: That's exactly it.

Marshall: All great fighters have it.

Stan: Yeah.

Marshall: Right up until the minute they're beaten. [dissolves into sobs again]

Day: Your inspector screwed the pooch. I gave her one job; that was it. One job! I'm telling you: when I get done with her --

Stan: [interrupts Day and manhandles him into empty room] Yeah, what are ya gonna do, huh? What are you gonna do? Huh? Go ahead, say it. Go ahead, say one more word. Say it. Open your mouth again, you moron! My inspector almost got killed! She may not make it because of your stupidity, because against our advice, you allowed that woman to move into the worst neighborhood in Albuquerque! I've already filed a complaint, asshole. Go ahead. Go ahead, please. Open your mouth again. I swear I'll bounce your head off every wall in this frickin hospital! Say it! Go ahead!

Gang Leader: I didn't do nothing. I didn't shoot your girl.

Marshall: Nobody here thinks you did.

Gang Leader: Then how come I'm still here? What d'you want?

Marshall: I wanna know -- what you dream about.

Gang Leader: Huh?

Marshall: I saw you on your porch, yesterday, running your crew, doing -- what I imagine you do pretty much every day and I was just curious: when you go to sleep at night, do you dream of other places? Doing something else? Or do you dream about sitting on your porch, running your crew?

Gang Leader: Huh? You need to get to the point.

Marshall: The point is: everybody here knows you're too smart to shoot a cop for no good reason, and that nothing happens on that street without your knowing about it.

Gang Leader: What's that gotta do with dreams?

Marshall: Well, this kind of thing is gonna be really bad for your business, and if there were some other place you dreamed of... or something you always wanted to be...

Marshall: No, but I have friends who make that sort of thing happen all the time. All we need from you is the right information. Would you like to be in Hawaii tomorrow? With a new name? Whole new life. I can have a US Attorney in here in five minutes making that happen. Just tell me who the shooter is, and how to find him.

Gang Leader: Sa es que, cabron? We're born where we're born. We is what we is, and that's that. I ain't going nowhere, and I ain't telling you nothing.

Mary: Good. Better. Because if I say anything else I'm not getting out of here, so great!

Doctor: How's your memory?

Mary: Fantastic! [under her breath] ...if I was shot by a smudge.

Doctor: I told you it might come back slowly or in pieces. Or—

Mary: Not at all, which means no matter what happens you get to be right. You're not letting me out, are you? I'm going to be here another week, I knew it!

Doctor: Promise me you'll take it slow.

Mary: Wait. Is that condescending doctor talk for I can go?

[Mary looks at and strokes her new granite countertop]

Rafael: Do you like it?

Mary: Are you kidding? I want to get drunk and do it.

Marshall: Liar liar status?

Mary: Pants fully on fire.

Mary: [voice over] I have this weird tendency to remember almost everything. Big, small, five minutes ago, thirty years ago; it doesn't matter. If I saw it and if it happened on a day that mattered, I knew it forever. I always thought of it as kind of a curse. I mean, do I really need to remember what I had for breakfast May 11, 2007 just because I met a guy in a diner that I'm now gonna marry; denver omlette, extra cheese, or what shirt my dad was wearing two days before my seventh birthday when he walked out the door and never came back? White button down, navy pinstripe. No. But I do. I remember almost everything, except the one thing I have to.

Gang Member: What is it with you?

Marshall: [Is back in the neighborhood where Mary got shot] I have the right to drink my coffee and eat my danish anywhere I want. And that's the wonderous high wire balancing act of democracy. [Takes a bite of his danish] Did you know that the first danish was raspberry with almond flakes? The cheese danish actually came later. Cheese is, in my opinion, the bolder breakfast choice. Like, crack. [Notices a car driving up. Marshall holds out his WITSEC badge and the person in the car who is coming to buy drugs, drives off] Once again, my daily visit causes the revenue in to take an icy plunge. [Offers the gang member coffee] Black, four sugars? Right?

Gang Member: I don't take nothing. I don't give nothing. Ever.

Mary: [is being wheeled out of the hospital and is talking to the nurse pushing the chair] You are so sweet.

Marshall: This won't last.

Mary: Family just couldn't be bothered, right? What? Mom and sis getting two belly rings? Fiancee giving how to be gorgeous lessons to underprivileged models? Why am I in such a hurry to get home to those people and leave the place where I can pee lying down?

Marshall: And she's back.

Mary: [to fleeing suspect] I swear to God, if I popped a stitch, I'm going to shove that dog up your ass and let him bark his way up your throat.

Mary: [Voice over] We forget sometimes how much the world can hurt. It can hurt people we love, people we don't, people caught in the middle, even people who would give anything if they could just never ever get hurt again, but sometimes the hurt can't be avoided. It's just coming at us and can't be stopped. It's in us and can't be seen, or it's lying next to us in the dark, waiting but sometimes it doesn't come at all. Sometimes we get this other thing that flutters down out of nowhere and stays just long enough to give us hope. Sometimes rarely, barely, but just when we need it the most and expect it the least, we get a break.

Marshall: This is like a trailer for a movie called "Geriatric Marshal."

Marshall: [to the gang member from earlier in the episode] You're like a crossword puzzle with B.O.

Mary: [voiceover] There's a researcher who claims he can tell if a couple is going to break up based on how they talk to each other. An ability I've had since I was five, without NIH funding. I just looked up at my parents and thought "nope." It took a six figure gambling debt, an alcoholic spiral and an FBI manhunt before they finally came to the same conclusion. It can take many forms but the worst are the ones who should have known better. The ones who rushed in, got hitched and now they don't know how to get out of it. They look like marmots, trapped in a cage.

Mary: Carson Miller, last spotted in Bolivia. Baltimore FBI thinks he's still the boss, running things from down there. Wow, gone seven years, ruling by pure fear from another hemisphere. I'd love to have power like that some day.

Marshall: But wouldn't you rather that power came from love, not from fear?

Mary: I don't even understand the question.

Mary: Wow, Stan. Opening day at Ascot?

Stan: I have a meeting with Allison Pearson.

[Mary shakes her head in confusion]

Marshall: The newly appointed U.S. Marshall for our district.

Mary: Right! Right, the political hack who licked D.C. butt like a creamsicle so she could tell actual marshals how to do a job she can't comprehend, let alone be in charge of. That Allison Pearson.

[Marshall nods in confirmation]

Stan: You two are going to be gone all day, right?

Marshall: No, but it's okay. I think your meeting with Allison is tomorrow.

Stan: Is it?

Mary: Oops. That's good! It gives you time to buy the top hat and monocle.

[2003 ]

Marshall: [to Mary] Were you drunk when they covered witness protection at the academy?

Marshall: [Mary and Marshall were interviewing a suspect who made a remark about keeping a DVR he stole. Mary turns around and tries to draw her gun] No, you can't shoot him.

Mary: This is so stupid!

Marshall: Okay, let's take a moment here and think this through. Henry set it all up, had Lebowski there break in, steal everything and the box of photos to intentionally create a security breach so that we would what, be forced to move them. Why?

Mary: I have no idea. Here's what I do know: I don't care! I'm sick of it! I'm sick of needy, crazy, stupid liars. Seriously, I can't take it anymore! I grew up with them, I live with them, I work with them, and no matter how fast I run or far I go, they breed and come after me! It's like a zombie movie, except the only scary part is that it never ends!

Marshall: How'd that feel?

Mary: Really good!

Marshall: Anything else?

Mary: No, I think I hit it all.

Marshall: Ready?

Mary: Ready. Thanks!

Marshall: De nada.

[2003 ]

Marshall: I like driving at night.

Mary: Me too.

Marshall: I remember being with my dad when I was six, seven. He'd bundle us all up at bedtime and take off for someplace. My brothers and I in the back, half asleep, mom and dad up front. Nobody talking. Just the sound of the road in the dark. Aren't you going to say something funny and mean that'll blow holes in me?

Mary: It sounds nice. My dad had this sweet tooth. Kicked in sometimes late at night. My mom would be getting sloshed, gearing up for a fight, and we'd slip out. Go to this all night place for ice cream. Mostly to get away from her. That and I think he liked being with me. Just the two of us, driving around in the dark singing to the radio.

Marshall: I'll bet he did. I cannot imagine you were a dull child.

[2003 ]

Claudia: Mary, are you going back east?

Mary: No, this has been such a wonderful, life changing experience, I'm going to derail my whole career and join WITSEC in Albuquerque. Please.

Marshall: Freud said there are no jokes.

Mary: What?

Marshall: You were using sarcasm to express your true feelings.

Mary: There's something weird about the air here.

Marshall: That's the lack of pollution.

Mary: What, it's like this all the time? I don't know, might be worth sticking around to see these two break up. Should be in about a week.

[2003 ]

Marshall: Stan, I'm telling you, snap her up.

Stan: Is this some kind of Stockholm syndrome?

Mary: [voiceover] I pride myself on being able to tell when a relationship won't work, and normally I love being right more than anything. More than Blue Moon beer, Exxon on Main Street, food smothered in mole sauce, but sometimes it's good to be wrong.

Mary: [voiceover] My dad once said time kills everything; hope, health, dreams, even love. He told me this on my birthday. I'd just turned six. Then he gave me my present, a pet rock, which I later used in an incident I'd regret. I'm not sure I got it at the time, but I get it now: everything we love is eventually murdered by the hands of time.

Marshall: Everything okay with you?

Mary: Besides a witness who --

Marshall: I mean is everything okay with you.

Mary: [looks at him for a while] Everything with Rafe is really good, so --

Marshall: So?

Mary: I should be happy about that.

Marshall: And what are you?

Mary: Scared. Pissed. Guilty. And happy. Happy's in there.

Marshall: Somewhere?

Mary: Happy's under a bit of a pile.

Marshall: How come?

Mary: I think I want something that just doesn't exist. I want something that's just right. No argument or doubt, which is insane, right? Because there's always argument, there's always doubt. So, I guess what I'm after here is the insane goal of an insane person.

Marshall: I would say it's the ideal goal of someone who has somehow managed to protect the purest part of her heart, which does not seem insane to anyone who really knows you.

Mary: Which would be you and you.

Wade Trimble: Look, without Krista, there's no point in anything.

Mary: Wade, I know it seems impossible now, but you might meet someone else, someone you love just as much, maybe more.

Wade Trimble: You've never really been in love. If you had, you'd understand.

Mary: I have... I am.

Wade Trimble: Did it happen with one look? Because everything you need is right there in that first second of that first look. I remember it like it was yesterday. I was... in line buying a belt. Turned to pay, and there she was. She looked up and... sunk a hook in my heart. It'll be there till the day I die. You got a story like that about you and your boyfriend?

Mary: Well... we met at a diner.

Wade Trimble: And?

Mary: And he asked me out, and I said no. Ran into him again, I asked him out, he said no. I really can't talk about this.

Wade Trimble: You need love.

Mary: [voiceover] Some say love is the only thing we have that is real. Some say life would be a whole lot better without it. For me, the jury's still out. I loved that pet rock my dad gave me because it was from him. Then I threw it at Robert Kwame. Hit him right in the temple. He went down like a Christmas tree in January. I loved Robert, I just wanted to make sure he knew it. I think he did. He ended up being my first kiss.

Rafael: I think we need to have a talk.

Mary: Okay.

Rafael: I don't think we should get married in July. Or at all.

Mary: [sighs] I knew it when Rita hugged me.

Rafael: You've said it before. I didn't listen. You and I, we don't work.

Mary: It's been hard from the start. [Rafe nods in agreement] I don't know why it isn't easier.

Rafael: Life isn't short. It's long and honestly, I don't know if you love me enough to make this work.

Mary: I do love you.

Rafael: But enough? Maybe that's why it's been so difficult. If I'm wrong you'll say something before I get out of here, okay?

Mary: [voiceover] Help: the absolute worst of the four letter words and the one I know best. A six year old on tip-toes peering into Brandi's crib, my mother on the bedroom floor, scrounging for the booze, that word coming out of their mouths as a gasp. Like destiny. Help. I've learned over time help doesn't mean grab the other paint roller or hold the ladder still. It means, hey, I screwed up, now what are we gonna do? Help, more than anything, is the not so subtle herald of the appearance of we. Don't even get me started on happy to help.

Mary: No silence. I can't take silence right now.

Marshall: Okay. Why aren't you wearing your engagement ring?

Mary: Raph and I broke up. [long pause] I said no silence.

Marshall: Right. So.

Mary: Oh, my God, Marshall. You're killing me.

Marshall: I really don't know what to say.

Mary: Now? Now you don't know what to say? Seven years I get a combo geyser of Wikipedia, Jeopardy, Star Trek, Dead Poet's Society, Carnac the Magnificent and now, the one time I need a steady stream of useless numbing babble I get car sounds!

Marshall: When did you two break up?

Mary: No, no, no! No questions! Anyone can do questions. I want pointless quotes! Useless trivia! The downpour of idiocy you practically patented! Come on! It's a twenty minute car trip. I don't want to think about my life, okay? Amaze me, annoy me, distract me. Is that so much to ask?

Marshall: This is so weird. I got nothing.

Mary: Oh, my God. You're verbally impotent.

Marshall: I swear, this has never happened before.

Marshall: I guess I'll have to return the ice cream maker I got for your engagement gift. French style, highly aerated ice cream in twenty five minutes. You know, the history of ice cream is as fascinating as it is long. Let us begin at the beginning. In ancient Greece --

Mary: Marshall. I'm good.

Marshall: Sorry I choked before.

Mary: It happens.

Marshall: Not to me.

Mary: I'm sure you'll be great next time.

Marshall: Maybe we can just talk?

Mary: [laughs] Sure.

Marshall: So, why did you and Raph break up?

Mary: Because he's a beautiful, sweet, sensitive man who adored me.

Marshall: Yeah, who wants that?

Mary: Exactly.

Mary: [voiceover, as Marshall fields a call from Faber for her without her knowing] Help, every now and then, is something more than a four letter word. Sometimes it's just a baby crying for her sister from the confines of a crib. And sometimes, if you're lucky, help comes without asking, because somewhere nearby is someone who'd rather keep you from falling than help you up after you do.

Mary: [voiceover] I like the sound of three word phrases. Fools rush in. Greed is good. Character is destiny. That one comes up a lot when a witness stares down the barrel of a whole new life. Documents, jewelry, snapshots; we take it all, and as much as I preach to them about a chance to start over fresh, I keep a stash of letters from a father who left and never came back. Witnesses can't hang onto a stash of anything. They're lucky we let them keep their secrets.

Marshall: He's sure been a model witness the last three months.

Mary: Oh, yeah. Nice, quiet, cooperative contract killer.

Marshall: I almost admire your resistance to the idea that people grow.

Marshall: -- and we're allowed to close the doors now and then, so to speak, but it can't last. You won't be able to hold out. You're just going to blurt it out at some point. I'm giving you the chance now to blurt!

Mary: Nothing happened! No blurting.

Marshall: Whatever you want to do here, I'll back you.

Mary: No, because what I'm going to do here will probably get me fired, and if you get fired, too, I'll have no one to move in with and mooch off of.

Marshall: Lucky for you my interests are varied and my career options infinite. If this whole thing goes horribly pear shaped, whatever's next for me, my coattails are always there for you.

Mary: Oh, yeah? What's origami pay these days?

Mary: [voiceover] Character is destiny. For the chronic do-gooder, the happy-go-lucky sociopath, the dysfunctional family, under the gun everyone reverts to who they are. We may hunger to map out a new course, but for most of us the lines have been drawn since we were five.

Mary: [voiceover] We moved on Christmas Eve the year that I turned six. Jinx got us some used 45s, a yard sale Big Wheel, and a patch of grass out back. She told me if I pedaled good and slow I could go anywhere I want. Anywhere extended only as far as our back yard, but still, it was freedom. A six year old's version of the open road. That was probably the last vehicle I got really attached to. Until now.

[Shopping inside a large box discount store (like SAM's or Costco)]

Mary: You're going to work me with some sob story, try and hustle up a shinny new deal?

Frank: I don't do sob stories. You come up with more dough, great. If not, I'll get by.

Mary: [picks up an iPhone-like electronic device] In the mean time, here's a cost effective way of becoming completely self involved, oblivious to everyone and everything, a total pro at useless games and a genius at accessing the pointless.

[Leaving Brandi, who has been missing for several episodes now, a message on her cell phone]

Mary: Hey Brandi, this is the last message I'm leaving you. If you don't call me back in 24 hours, I'm telling the police you died, having your funeral, selling everything you own and if you ever show up again, I'm having you arrested for identity theft.

Mary: Give me a break, Marshall, honestly.

Marshall: One break coming up. [pulls out a box of donuts and coffee]

Mary: The Donut Hut? What did you do?

Marshall: Eat first.

Mary: Don't sugar-manage me.

Marshall: You should have no problem remaining surly as you masticate. Lois Turner stopped by after your house call. She wants a divorce.

Mary: She's not married, and don't say masticate.

Mary: Hey!

Frank: Jesus! It's like being haunted. How in the hell did you find me?

Mary: ESP. All the ladies have it these days. A lot's changed since you went in, Frank. Now women have the power to read men's thoughts.

Mary: [voiceover] We love what we love. For some people it's a first grade crush. For others it's a Big Wheel, the wrong guy, or the New York Mets. For some of us, it's something unreachable, something we've maybe never had before, and we know that even if we reach it, even if we pull it close and make it ours, it won't last. It can't. But we keep on, because it doesn't matter if it's a Big Wheel, wrong guy, or the New York Mets, it doesn't matter what we reach for, what matters is the reaching.

Mary: [voiceover] When I was seventeen it was a not so very good year. I married a guy named Mark who was twenty-two. The whole thing lasted thirty-six hours. Seventeen, twenty-two, thirty-six. It didn't add up. It's hard to believe there was a version of me capable of diving head first into the shallow end like that. These days a guy buying me a drink kicks off an internal debate long enough to put my thirty-six hour marriage, however redundantly, to shame. After which, he's moved on to someone else. Someone who is both presumably sane and thirsty.

Stan: FBI just snagged a big fish: Natalie Vickers, key player and co-conspirator in an interstate mortgage scam.

Marshall: Well, this is where normal people say goodbye, I'll call you, be careful.

Mary: You owe me nine dollars for lunch last week, so don't get shot and die.

Marshall: [smiles] I'll do my best.

Mary: Okay, here's the thing, Natalie. Sooner or later this case falls apart because of you, and when it does all those Russians you turned on will be back on the street with nothing between you and them but a motel door and their urge to kick it in. And when they kill you it will have zero impact on my day. Sleep tight.

Mary: [voiceover] I think about my short, impulsive teenage marriage more than I care to admit. When I was with Raph it would run on a loop, mocking me in bed every now and then. At the moment right when the lights go out. A continual reminder that when it comes to what Pat Benatar aptly called a battlefield, I should probably be locked in a cage during off hours, for my own good and that of unsuspecting suitors bearing gifts.

Mary: [voiceover] "Father Figure" is a phrase as potent as "Mother Nature". Say that out loud and the image flow from having a catch on the side of the yard, the screen doors slamming behind the deadbeat dad. For every "father knows best", in Atticus Finch, there's a Great Santini bouncing a ball at the head of his teenage son. One thing for sure the father figure, in your face or out the door, would make his presence felt. Like it or not.

Marshall: Everything matters. Everything you think, feel, but most of all every thing you do it all counts.

Marshall: I find your almost girlish delight disturbing on many levels.

Mary: You should be. I'm about to find out so many embarrassing hilarious new secrets, I'm going to have to alphabetize them.

Marshall: I honestly fear for the state of your soul. [stands as his dad approaches]

Seth: Marshall.

Marshall: Dad.

Mary: [sighs] Heaven.

Seth: So, you seeing anyone?

Marshall: There are a few prospects.

Mary: [laughs]

Marshall: Mary doesn't know about them because I try not to subject people I care about to what I euphemistically refer to as her winning abrasiveness.

Mary: Look, Seth, Marshall's social life is a contradiction in terms, unless you count putting a bookstore clerk in a headlock and telling her about Nietzschean themes in Wagnerian opera.

Marshall: She was interested!

Mary: [pats his shoulder] Shhh. [to Seth] There's so much I want to know. Who was Marshall's first celebrity crush? How old was he when he went to his first Star Trek convention? And when did he start using a curling iron?

Mary: How old were you when you first wondered if you were adopted?

Marshall: Four. I did the saliva strip test at eight. Sadly...[shakes head]

Marshall: I wish I had had you in high school.

Mary: High school me would have eaten high school you alive.

Mary: [voiceover] For most kids, the scariest thing you can hear is, "Wait till your father gets home." For some, there's no fear of that or hope for it. I'm still waiting. Not like a puppy, head tilting at footballs on the porch or a key in the lock, I go about my days, every so often, aware of his absence. And telling myself that the heart, old adage aside, does not grow fonder. Except it does. It really, really does.

Mary: [voiceover] Friendship, it's been said, is God's way of apologizing for your family. I don't really subscribe to the God part, but if I did apologizing for family seems like the least he could do.

Mary: What's that?

Marshall: That would be a painting.

Mary: Oh, God, no. You're not going to try to drag me to another art show, are you? Last time I got cornered by some freak wearing a kilt with a tattoo inside his bottom lip that said "yeah." He showed it to me twice while I was eating!

Marshall: [smiles] No. This is about my witness, Patrick Hill. It might be nothing. How's Mia?

[Marshall has just learned Patrick brought his boyfriend into WitSec without telling anyone]

Patrick: I'm sorry! I shouldn't have misled you. I should have told you about us. But I... I just couldn't. My family, they'd never understand.

Marshall: Patrick, I don't mean to be glib, but if ever there was an opportunity to let go of what your family thinks, it's in Witness Protection, where you will never see them again!

Bob: [to Marshall] You see? This is what I'm dealing with!

Marshall: You leaving early?

Mary: I thought I'd go check on Mia, see if she feels like hanging out tonight.

Marshall: Ah.

Mary: What? What's that mean?

Marshall: It implies understanding.

Mary: No, it implies you think you know something; something even I don't know. "Ah" is Marshall speak for arrogant.

Marshall: You like her.

Mary: I don't hate her.

Marshall: Which for you is tantamount to eternal fealty. Would you go so far as to say under different circumstances you might be, dare I say, friends?

Mary: What's your point?

Marshall: No matter what you do or feel for her, she's not going to be here long and that you can't change.

Mary: Yeah, well, what I can do is make it better. Thanks, sunshine.

Marshall: I know that you can make it better, just don't make it worse for yourself.

Mary: I love when you talk to me in greeting card.

Marshall: I'm serious, Mary. That's why you're so lucky to have me.

Mary: Where I'm smart, you're an idiot.

Marshall: Symbiosis personified.

Mary: [voiceover] I can count the witnesses I've admired on a hand and a half. The ones I liked, fewer still. When it comes to those I was truly friends with I can't put a number on it. I don't need to. It's just Mia. Someone who wouldn't be around very long. I know somewhere a therapist's couch beckons. Mia lived forty-two years. All she wanted in the end was to have made a difference in one life. She did. She absolutely did. I know what she'd say if she heard all this: "Oh, shut up." Her version of rest in peace.

Mary: Why do you get the witnesses that cook you food, and I get the ones who can multiply very large numbers in their head?

Marshall: It is commonly referred to as karma.

Mary: [grabs an empanada from the plate]Tu empanadas es mi empanadas.

Marshall: Actually, it would be "tus empanadas son mis empanadas".

Mary: So, in high school, who didn't hate you?

Marshall: Actually, I was both well-liked and widely admired.

Mary: [voiceover] Trusting anything, your family, your instincts, the dim-witted anchor on the ten o'clock news, its all a gamble, with plenty of promises and no guarantees, but I'm finding the longer I live, no matter how often I fall on my face, that folding is for losers. That winners take hits. Call it going all in, call it rolling the dice. Screw hedging your bets, bluff, raise, call, stand, again and again and again...

Mary: [voiceover] I once dated a guy who loved the independence of living on his own; chugging from the carton in the middle of the night. He said the isolation was a trade-off he could live with. I thought I'd hit the mother lode. Then he told me he was going to clown camp.

Marshall: The paperwork has your IQ at 142. That's a notch above that of the average itinerant. What's your story?

Walter: I read a biography of Paul Erdős when I was ten. It hooked me. [to Mary] Erdős was a homeless Hungarian mathemetician.

Marshall: Who never settled down. Just roamed the world...

Mary: Terrific. Dueling Marshall's.

Marshall: Helping people with their math problems. He did a lot of work in set theory.

Mary: Hey, look! A dime!

Mary: So, long lost mom is a Sherry Greer from Modesto, California.

Marshall: With her social it won't take long to track down where she is.

Mary: [voiceover] Split apart, reunited or adjusted for new conditions on the ground, family is a double edged sowrd. They are the best of times, the worst of times, your keys to the kingdom and the skeletons in your closet. If only we didn't have to eat dinner with them.

Mary: [voiceover] Winston Churchill famously said that democracy is the worst form of government... except for all the others. The same goes for family. Or as we'd say on our side of the pond, nobody picks on my brother but me.

Mary: [Mary is threatening Brian about Sabrina] I'm gonna break it down for you. If you touch, talk or so much as accidentally glance at Sabrina, I will find you. I will hunt you down like a lioness looking for dinner. I will haunt you in your dreams til you wake up in your little race car bed with your Transformer sheets soaked through.

Mary: [voiceover] People say "you can't chose your family." What you can do is look deeper than the dinner table, beyond the DNA and redefine the word. No one knows that better than I do.

Mary: [to Stan, after he assigned Marshall to a case he didn't want] I'm taking Sabrina to Chicago to see her mother today. How am I supposed to revel in Marshall's misery from 1,000 miles away?

Mary: [to a priest turned bartender] I'm just saying. Maybe all you've done is gone from offering counsel and absolution to offering counsel and Absolut.

Gabe: Been sitting on that awhile?

Mary: Weeks.

Mary: I don't know, maybe I should just pick a bar, down some shots and do some cowboy.

Marshall: Uh huh.

Mary: What? What's uh huh?

Marshall: If you feel like you need to get something out of your system. If you need to go do some cowboy.

Mary: What?

Marshall: You've done the cowboy. And when you weren't doing the cowboy, you were the cowboy, like with Raph. You don't need to let off steam, what you need is I get that you don't like messy, but maybe messy is what you need. Maybe instead of just anyone you should be looking for someone. Someone who challenges you, who calls you on your BS and gets in your face and makes you think. [pauses] What?

Mary: What? I'm thinking.

Mary: I've got a going away present for the priest. I've got the gift of Gabe!

Mary: Yeah. A) No kidding, B) Gabe opted out of WitSec, and C) What's it like for a pussycat to walk around in people clothes?

[Father Gabe has opted out of WITSEC]

Gabe: I should be going. I've got to work this weekend. My new parish needs me.

Mary: Of course they need you. A church in Vegas? God knows what those derelicts have been up to.

Gabe: He does, indeed.

Mary: I don't like you opting out of WITSEC. A courtroom full of guilty doesn't make you safe. Even Flora knows that.

Gabe: I'm glad she's coming into the program, but my mind's made up. I've got a new parish, a new city, one last name change. Only the calling's the same. To quote one of the all time great philosophers...

Mary: Please don't.

Gabe: (imitating Popeye) "I am what I am."

Mary: (laughs) Amen to that. Hey, I got you a little something. Just something.

Gabe: Whoa! Should I open it?

Mary: Uh, in the car. It's a sign. Not your kind. My kind. A sign. You can hang it on your wall.

Gabe: Ah!

Mary: So...

Gabe: Bless you, Mary.

Mary: Take a hike, Father. Oh! Hey, I owe you a punch line.

Gabe: That you do. Let's hear it.

Mary: A priest, a stripper, and a cop walk into a bar. Bartender looks at them and says... "What is this? Some kind of joke?"

Mary: [voiceover] I am what many would call, often as accusation, a non believer. It's a charge I consider unfair, because all of us, no matter the connection we feel or don't, when sitting under the stars, or feeling the world closing in, doing what comes naturally or rearranging the furniture, all of us believe in something. I believe in many things. I believe in first impressions, and second chances. For strippers, priests, and hopeless, hapless sisters. I believe in telling the truth to the people you love at every possible turn. And lying, just a little, at what seems the appropriate time. I believe in finding people you'd run through a brick wall for, and making sure they know it, if not in so many words. But mostly, I believe in justice... sweet, street and otherwise. Justice. That's my church.

Mary: [voiceover] Make no mistake: buying a car or copping a plea, deal making is a bloodsport. When a witness lands on my doorstep he's trading in his testimony, his hometown, and everyone he ever knew for a life at the end of the road. So we set him up; a new name, address, a job we hope he won't hate, but the one thing I can't give him, the deal I've yet to strike, is the one that protects him from the guy in the mirror.

Marshall: I'm also impressed you seem to be rolling with change. It's not something at which you are adept.

Mary: Hey, I'm adept at change! I mean, did I not go on vacation with Faber? No one, including me, thought I could vacate, and I vacated!

Marshall: During the so-called vacation you convinced Faber to go make things work with his ex-wife and kids, which proves my thesis that you prefer a known situation that's deeply flawed to an unknown situation potentially free of flaws.

Mary: [stroking a car] Oh, man, it's the same color!

Marshall: Angry aubergine.

Peter: I searched for it far and wide. Found it at a used car dealer in Resolute, Kentucky. The dealer didn't want to sell it because he said he believed in God and he was sure it was a sin to make money off this, and I'm quoting, chariot of Satan.

Marshall: It has one hundred and forty thousand miles on it!!

Mary: It's road tested. Durable!

Marshall: Or as seen through another lens, a candidate for the junkyard!

Peter: Look, Mary, there's no reason for you to regress back into a Probe. Let me put you into a new loaner.

Mary: The only reason I'm back in the loaner is because of Mr. Headroom, here.

Marshall: The Probe is a known situation that is deeply flawed.

Mary: Or, seen through another lens, bite me.

Marshall: Your claws are showing.

Mary: They don't retract. I gotta tell you, I am both annoyed and impressed that you kept this little relationship a secret from me.

Marshall: Keeping secrets is part and parcel of our chosen profession.

Mary: Only the cheerleader doesn't seem your type.

Marshall: I defy you to categorize the women I've dated as belonging to one specific type. If anyone, it is you who has a deeply ingrained pattern to your romantic involvements.

Marshall: Both Raph and Faber believe that no matter how tough and independent a woman is, underneath it all, she wants a white picket fence and 2.5 kids. That's why you didn't marry Raph and Faber went back to sort things out with his ex-wife and 2.5 kids.

Mary: What are you saying? My type is guys that don't get me?

Marshall: In point of fact, your type is guys that you don't get don't get you. But this only applies to long-term relationships. Short-term, you will your words, not mine drop jeans with just about anyone.

Mary: What?

Marshall: We know what we are, but know not what we may be.

Mary: Don't talk like that. What's your point?

Marshall: Your mom is well ensconced at teaching ballet, your sister is engaged, and despite your underlying belief in her guilt it turns out she was free of complicity in the car theft. The questions is, what does the protective lioness do without anyone to protect?

Mary: [voiceover] Whether it's secrets, justice or the Amazon rainforest, every one of us protects things a thousand times a day. It doesn't take a gun; for most of us, protection is as quiet and reflexive as a breath. For some, though, for knights in shining armor, the lone ranger, a boyfriend or a mom, protection can be a hard habit to break. As much as we thump the bible about the vital need to change, the fact is, we hardly ever do. We stay here, halfway to happy, in our old familiar places, with our feet stuck firmly on the ground.

Mary: [voiceover] In my experience, holding out for closure does nothing but prolong the pain. The stoics got it right. Lance the boil, rip off the band-aid. Man up and get on with it. I gotta go.

ADA: Just make sure my witness shows up safe and sound at trial.

Mary: Wait, safe and sound? Is that new? That's not an either or thing?

[ADA gives her a stink eye]

Mary: [to coffee maker as she answers her phone] I hate you!

Marshall: What?

Mary: No, not you.

Marshall: Joey called. He said there's a situation at the house.

Mary: I am not going anywhere until I get...

Marshall: I've got two coffees.

Mary: I swear to God, you're a keeper.

Mary: Unbelievable. Adam was dead on about these guys from the get-go.

Marshall: Ah, the dulcet sound of a Mary Shannon admission, so rarely heard in nature.

Mary: Do you think everyone wants to punch you in the mouth?

Mary: [voiceover] One of my earliest memories is of a beachfront and a flagpole, and of lightning flashes heading for the shore. As grownups ran around, frantic, gathering beach towels, flip-flops, and five-year-olds, one kid in particular went racing toward the storm. I watched that five-year-old at the beachfront, clinging wide-eyed to the flagpole, as pretty bolts of lightning lit the sky. Then his mom ran up, or a lifeguard, or an aunt, and pulled him down to groundedness, to live another day. As with most things, hanging on to flagpoles is, in the end, a matter of balance, but good to keep you steady while you stay alert for lightning, as it storms across the sea.

Mary: [voiceover] The little guy. The underdog. David as opposed to Goliath. These are who we're raised to root for, to climb every mountain, take on all comers, the shock the world with a win at Lake Placid, and once in a blue moon they do. But the unerring fate that every little guy will find love, bring home the gold, or slay the dragon is in reality the stuff dreams are made of, or rather fairytales. Just saying.

Mary: All right, fess up. Is something going on between you two? You having a fling or something?

Jimmy: I'm not having a fling.

Mary: Then, what? Don't tell me you've been in love with her since high school or something.

Jimmy: No. Since I was nine, actually.

[...]

Marshall: Let me get this straight. Your whole life you've loved one woman?

Jimmy: It's not like I didn't date. I had girlfriends. I even almost got engaged once. But ever since that first kiss in Winnie's bedroom window, no one's ever measured up.

Mary: Of course no one's measured up. You never got together. It's all just fantasy. Moonlit nights and ice cream cones. What actual girlfriend stands a chance?

Jimmy: It's not fantasy. It wasn't. I know this girl. We grew up together. We did homework together, we went to movies opening day, we shared a limo to the prom. I was even in her wedding.

[...]

Mary: Hey, what'd you mean before, you were in her wedding?

Jimmy: I was the man of honor.

Mary: Man of honor? That's not an oxymoron?

Marshall: Technically, no.

Mary: Hmm. Okay. It's a something-moron, though, I'm pretty sure.

Mary: Guy spends his whole life devoted to one woman who, P.S., married someone else. You know what we call that?

Marshall: Classically romantic?

Mary: Totally pathetic.

Delia Parmalee: I'm with Marshall. Sounds like the best romantic comedy ever.

Marshall: Don't get her started on rom-coms!

Mary: Don't get me started on rom-coms! Talk about a waste of time. Hey, Harry! Hey, Sally! Opposites attract! We hate each other, but not really. Yeah, I get it. Just save me the two hours of 'I'll have what she's having' and fess up now so I can get one with my life and back to the grownups table.

Delia: It sounds like someone could use a trip from Mr. Cupid.

Marshall: Don't get her started on Cupid.

Mary: I hate that fat little Valentine's baby.

Mary: I mean, I've kissed more girls than this guy.

Mary: Six?! Six sessions?! I got abducted and I was back in four, and one of them was lunch!

Marshall: Shelly thinks it's related to how protective I am of the women in my life.

Marshall: We had a date, it was coffee, and her ex called in the middle weeping, so technically.

Mary: She just got out of a messy breakup.

Marshall: Gordon. Delia is seriously dialed in.

Mary: And now she has you on the couch for wall to wall sessions and some not so subtle romantic recon. Wake up, pal! You're not a patient. You're her hostage.

Marshall: She does seem to focus on you and Abigail a lot.

Mary: Yeah, speaking of, how the hell's you go from slumber party pillow-talk to breaching the veil of WITSEC?

Marshall: Nobody breached the veil of WITSEC. Abigail is a detective, a good one. She detected. And, as I recall, you told Raph.

Mary: Yeah, and, as I recall, we were engaged. He was my fiance, not some JV cops-and-robbers play date.

Marshall: I didn't tell her.

Mary: Fine.

Marshall: Fine.

James Woodhead: You're a WITSEC inspector. You can't arrest me.

Mary: I'm a member of the U.S. Marshall Service, the oldest branch of law enforcement this country's ever seen. I can arrest the president if it's warranted.

Mary: [speak to Winnie and Jimmy] Can I just say one thing? You people are idiots. Honestly, all you had to do, just one of you, was open your mouth when you were nine, and we could've avoided all of this... Albanians, self-inflicted car crashes, me being this annoyed. So can we please just cut to the chase? You love her, she loves you, get on the goddamn plane. As you wish.

Marshall: So, come on, what do you think?

Mary: I think this is the beginning of the end of a beautiful friendship.

Marshall: Mary, I need you to know something.

Mary: What? What do you need me to know?

Marshall: You run around, passing notes back and forth, you got 'em in a room together, you got 'em into WITSEC together. You don't hate cupid. You are cupid.

Mary: [voiceover] From childhood we're fed a steady diet of 'once upon a time,' the ultimate lead-in to love conquers all. No wonder we wind up at bookstores and movies with stars in our eyes, or head in the clouds. Heathcliff, Scarlett, a farm boy, a princess, Affairs to Remember on the 85th floor, but the star-crossed who kiss right before Auld Lang Syne or played by a boombox held over their heads, they're a pain in the ass. Because love, no matter what the storybooks say, hardly ever conquers all. So when it does, and the grownups, the skeptics, the stable of mind, watch others blissfully fly into the sun, it churns up and riles something deep down inside. We feel something foreign and fleeting, something hard to admit: we hope.

Mary: Extreme Makeover: The Marshall Mann edition. She zeroed in on what needs fixing, I'm telling you. Don't get me wrong, I like Abigail, I do.

Marshall: You hide it well.

Mary: But you know the type. She's a fixer. Trust me, aside from late night cramming for her SATs, that girl will not rest till she's completely changed you.

Mary: [voicover] Everybody fakes it... pretending they like the friend's spouse, feigning interest in the ozone or christmas carols at the door. Just it seems somehow smarter or nicer. Kinder... funnier. It's like we ought to be Canadians or something.

Beth Harris: You know, you don't have to check on me 24/7.

Mary: What are you talking about? I'm not checking on you. I always hang out in the smoker's section with the cool kids.

Beth: This is where the cheerleaders sit.

Mary: Ah. That explains the hives.

Mary: Hey, how'd you meet Abigail?

Marshall: Good morning.

Mary: Just go with me here.

Marshall: At the Joint Task Force briefing.

Mary: Exactly. See? You just gave me the headline, not every single detail like Karl and Sharon did last night.

Marshall: You saying it was rehearsed?

Mary: I'm saying it's hinky.

Stan: I was just with Delia and the others, and across the board they matched Sharon the drug dealer with Sharon the PTA mom. That little beauty mark is killing us.

Marshall: We've got to stop that documentary from airing.

Stan: I was thinking the exact same thing, but not to worry. I got this.

Mary: Cool. John Wayne mode.

Marshall: [smiles] John Wayne mode.

Stan: What? I know a guy.

Mary: [laughs] Ha! Even better! Godfather mode.

Stan: I wear many hats, Mary.

Mary: You wear many hats?! Don't tee up the bald jokes for us, Stan. It takes the fun out of it.

Mary: [voicover] There comes a time when every kid peeks behind a curtain and sees she's not the only one putting on a show. Fathers, mothers, cops and robbers, every member of the PTA: all playing dress up, all wearing their masks; a constant Halloween. That first peek behind the curtain, the lifting of the mask, it's a disorienting moment. The solid ground beneath you slips away to quicksand, along with all you thought you knew. But you realize, as days and nights go by, that there's a kind of truth in the lie. That the mask is often more revealing than the face that lies beneath, because the person you pretended to be, the mother, the father, the sister, the cop, became, somehow, the person that you are.

Mary: [voiceover] Evolution is a funny thing, developing defense mechanisms that work solely on the element of surprise. Case study: When I was seven, Scott Halley and I caught a lizard in his backyard. The lizard was so shocked, it shed its tail in Scott's hand, at which point Scott started bawling. His dad said the tail would grow back. But before we could witness the reptilian resurrection, his parents split up and his mom moved him to Sarasota. Point is, to survive is to let go... of old habits, new friends, and to shed your tail every now and again. It leaves scars, and it isn't pretty, but if you look close enough, what is?

Marshall: Coffee sour? You're making that face.

Mary: It's this clown, Ronnie Dowenberg.

Marshall: Ah, the affinity scammer.

Mary: Sells good Samaritans on phony bonds to build imaginary churches. I don't even like church and I hate this guy. Con-men are the worst.

Marshall: They're great on the stand, blend in anywhere, they play ball.

Mary: That's what they want you to think!

Marshall: Maintaining such a dim view of humanity, isn't it exhausting?

Mary: That's why they make energy drinks. [smirks] Look, Marshall, we hide murderers, smugglers, every crayon in the wise-guy wannabe box, but con-men: they don't just take your money, they rob you of your dignity. They leave you poor, wide-eyed and stupid on the side of the road, and if you think there's a chance in hell this son of a bitch can up and whistle a different tune, I've got a seaside condo in Beirut I'd like to tell you about.

Mary: I'm not a team player, Stan, and that's a direct quote from last year's performance appraisal.

Mary: Man... it was gonna be such a good day. Bust a bad guy, watch some crappy TV. Curl up in bed with a box of wine. Now... this is all screwed up, and I got a date with my ex-husband.

Marshall: Your what?

Mary: Oh, yeah. I was married for five days when I was 17.

Marshall: You were what?

Mary: It was no big deal. We were young and stupid. Well, we were young and he was stupid. Anyway, he's in town for an air conditioning convention. Wow, there is no way to make that sound sexy. Whatever, we'll probably just go to Zinc, drink too much, and get in a fight, you know, for old times' sake.

Marshall: How has this never come up? You have an ex-husband.

Mary: You know me. I don't like to brag.

Marshall: Whoa! You like it here? I thought you said it was too... something. You must be Mark. I'm Marhsall, Mary's partner. This is Abigail.

Abigail: I'm the girlfriend. Hey, Mark, Mary.

Mary: Uh-huh.

Marshall: Hey, fun idea. Let me see if they have a table for four.

Mary: That is fun. I'll supervise. Is this 'cause I put your cell phone in jello?

Marshall: This is because, once upon a time, you got to grill my dad on my youthful indiscretions. And you know what they say about payback.

Marshall: A witness going undercover is a non starter unless his inspectors are there to ensure his safety.

FBI Special Agent: And when was the last time you worked undercover?

Mary: [scoffs] We're always undercover. That's the job. Seriously, in real life I'm a total bitch. [she and Marshall laugh]

Mary: Can you believe we're just rolling out the red carpet for this douche bag?

Marshall: It's what we do: we keep douche bags honest and occasionally remunerate them, even when they aren't.

Mary: Disappearing. It's not a bad deal. No baggage. No exes tracking you down.

Marshall: So, you and Mark are...

Mary: I just couldn't buy a ticket for a movie I'd already seen.

Mary: [voiceover] Forward progress is impeded by several menial laws: inertia, friction, fear of the unknown, and the impeccable timing of charming ex-husbands. But somehow, improbable as it may be, we find ourselves not quite free of the past, but lurching toward the future, inch by bittersweet inch.

Mary: [voiceover] To raise a child, says an African proverb, and one first lady of note, it takes a village, a community. Families splashing at a car wash to support the local school. Seeding a little league field in advance of opening day. That's not how it went in our house. We never made it to the car wash or the bake sales. Our communal experiences meant ducking debt collectors and the FBI, which wasn't without its lessons. Shutting all the lights off, a sudden makeshift hide and seek, or moving every month or two teaches you quick to count on a community of one.

Mary: [whispers across the hallway to her out of sight partner] Marshall!

Marshall: [whispers back] I'm done with the Amish jokes!

Mary: Why? They're funny!

Marshall: They're not, and before you ask, I haven't seen the remote.

Mary: Ugh. What about a pillow? Have you seen an extra pillow? These beds suck. I swear to God, I think my mattress is made of wood. [looks up as Marshall appears in her doorway wearing an Amish style men's nightgown] Oh, no. What are you doing?! No, no, no, no, no! Eli was just being polite! He didn't expect you to actually wear them!

Mary: Tell me you're not one of those psycho girlfriends trolling for intel about the guy she's dating.

Abigail: Mary, this isn't a trick question. It's not espionage. You know Marshall better than he knows himself, and you sit five feet away from him ten hours a day.

Mary: [voiceover] Community is not exactly one size fits all. One man's slice of heaven is another man's hellhole. The lucky few fit in from the start, like a glove; always with the wind at their backs and a place to call home, surrounded by parents, kids and the green of the grass. For some, though, all the community you'll ever need can be found on the other side of the room.

Mary: So here's something... I'm kind of ...how should I put this? I'm...

Marshall: Expecting? With child? In a family way?

Mary: How did you know?

Marshall: Mary, you're my partner and my best friend, I'm with you all the time.

Mary: Yeah, and?

Marshall: Well, lately, you're ah ...[motions to her breasts]

Mary: Oh, ew! Marshall! Just...

Marshall: You do like a pie, but your liking pie is nothing new. What's new is...[motions again]

Mary: Yeah, got it.

Marshall: Also, there was the vomiting, as well as something Abigail mentioned about you hating the taste of coffee?

Mary: All of a sudden, I can't drink it without wanting to hurl. Can you believe that? I can't drink coffee. Good luck with that, by the way.

Marshall: Yeah. Yeah.

Mary: So she knows?

Marshall: Abigail? No. I'm not gonna talk to her about it before I talk to you.

Mary: Why didn't you say anything?

Marshall: Well, Mary... The thing is, I... I just thought. I kinda thought... That it wasn't my place.

Mary: [voiceover] A week before my father left, we were in the kitchen as the sun came up. Just the two of us. I was six. Mom was passed out in the bedroom in a tangle of sweaty sheets while I scavenged cupboards in a nearly-empty fridge for anything to eat. Dad called me over to the table, told me to bring the milk. We sat there, the last meal we ever shared, eating oreos that he'd left out overnight. Over soft, stale oreos, my father told me we were special because we knew a secret that other people don't. Like many things, an oreo, over time, becomes the very best version of itself. That was his last bit of wisdom. The final gospel of James Wiley Shannon. Five days later, he was gone.

Marshall: A doctor.

Mary: No.

Marshall: An OB/GYN.

Mary: Still a doctor, still a no.

Marshall: It's a simple blood test. It takes five minutes. Five minutes.

Marshall: I'm with you every day if you're having a baby, trust me, we're having a baby.

Mary: Fine, whatever. Just get back to me when you need three jog bras to run to the phone.

US Attorney: The Lithuanian operation is more than just money laundering. They're terrorists. We're talking murder, drug smuggling, prostitution, and that's just what they do to unwind. Now I've been tracking this group for seventeen months, and I'm telling you, they're a scourge. [gets hard looks from Mary and Marshall] The group. Not Lithuanians as a whole. [hurriedly explains] My mother's side is half Lithuanian! I'm not being a racist!

Mary: Huh! Next Mother's Day maybe you embroider that on a pillow!

Stan: Bottom line, unless Ben get's a transplant he's not going to make it to the trial.

US Attorney: Great! Wouldn't want anything to be easy. Ever!

Mary: That's right. He gave himself liver failure. You know, to spite you.

Mary: Oh, my God, Miami. Even the humidity's humid.

Marshall: I don't mind. It's good for the pores. What? A man can't care about his complexion?

Mary: Just step on it, lady. I gotta pee like a Russian racehorse.

Marshall: Teamster.

Mary: Tinker bell.

Marshall: You sure it was a good idea flying down here, considering...

Mary: Marshall, fine. I took a blood test. It was positive. You happy?

Marshall: Are you?

Mary: That's not the point. The point is, Dr. Wolk said it's fine for me to fly in my first trimester. So how about you take care of your uterus, I'll take care of mine?

Marshall: Okay, I'm just gonna say it. You took a fall, a bad one.

Mary: Gee, you think?

Marshall: You should see a doctor. And not tomorrow. Seriously, Mary, a person in your condition...

Mary: Marshall, I'm pregnant. I'm not disabled, okay?

Marshall: Okay. So, um, what's the plan?

Mary: I don't know. The plan is I'd rather not be pregnant. But I'll do what I do, protect and relocate. There must be hundreds of couples in a ten-mile radius who'd kill for the shot at 3:00 A.M. feedings, and I'm just the girl to give it to them.

Marshall: Just like that? You sure?

Mary: No, I'm not sure of anything, except I wanna keep doing my job and I don't want anyone else to know. And if you keep treating me like some sort of wounded koala, someone's gonna figure it out.

Brandi: Mary, you're never tempted to, you know, look for him? I mean, with your job and everything?

Mary: Brandi, the man is an FBI fugitive. The day I'd find him I'd cuff him at hello.

Brandi: I know, but it's been so long, and Peter was saying something about a statute of limitations.

Mary: Look, guys like dad don't change. The picture you're going to find is of a guy who held up banks, ditched me and mom and a baby in a crib, and then got a new family and bailed on them, too. I mean, are you sensing a pattern here?

Brandi: You never know. Peter says it takes some people a long time to grow into their authentic selves.

Mary: Okay, first of all, don't say authentic selves. Second, you're getting married, so you're all overflowing with perspective and forgiveness. Forgiveness is for people who deserve it, and dad is still out there doing God knows what, so he's not one of those people, you know. He's just the guy in the picture.

Marshall: Procreation is remarkable in its complexity...

Mary: Here we go.

Marshall: And its relative simplicity.

Mary: Kill me now.

Marshall: What comes after: family dynamics, hopes and dreams, the triumphs, the tragedies.

Mary: Sweet Jesus, shut your hole.

Marshall: That's the tricky stuff.

Mary: I can't believe I'm pregnant.

Marshall: I know you can't, and yes you are.

Mary: I'm not sure I know how to do this.

Marshall: It's just like you said, treat it like a witness: protect and relocate.

Mary: Yeah.

Marshall: We'll make a list. You do like lists.

Mary: I do like a list.

Marshall: I'll draw up a template tomorrow with 'locate nearest restroom' on every other line. Can I walk you out? I'll let you get the door.

Mary: No, I've got some stuff to finish up.

Marshall: Okay. We'll talk more tomorrow.

Mary: Don't threaten me. [smiles as Marshall laughs]

Mary: [voiceover] Growing up sucks. The days of cookies, dreams and the ice cream man do their flickering fade to black, like some wounded firefly or a nightlight on the fritz. Children become parents, parents become helpless, and dreams you thought you'd always dream slip silent out the door. But ultimately, in sickness and in health, for better or worse, when you look at your life with a hard, unflinching eye, there's only one real certainty: the growing never stops. That and the death and taxes thing.

Marshall: I know, it's just hanging out with him I can't help thinking about what it would be like: fatherhood. Speaking of which, you know you have to tell Mark about this stuff, right? [motions to her belly]

Mary: No. It was a one night stand. I don't have to tell my ex-husband anything. That's what one night stands and ex-husbands are for.

Mary: That was Ashok.

Marshall: What was a shock?

Mary: On the phone. That was Ashok.

Marshall: Ah-shoke.

Mary: Whatever. Whoever. He's on his way up.

Marshall: How did he sound?

Mary: How do you think? Arrogant! He sounded arrogant. Like he's better than everyone and right about everything. [gets a long look from Marshall] Yeah, but I really am.

Peter: So you ducking Brandi...

Mary: She sent you to what? To spy on me?

Peter: No, this is a solo mission, but it's all starting to make sense. She doesn't know about your...

Mary: Growth Spurt, no, and now you're running around like some sort of munch kin P.I. because Brandi thinks I'm mad at her?

Mary: [listening to federal prosecutor] Listen to him. We run the race, he takes the victory lap. How long have you know this ballbag anyway?

Stan: Too long.

Marshall: You two aren't related, are you? Inbred in-laws from feuding clans?

Mary: Come on, you're killing me! Give it up, Stan.

Stan: I slept with his...

Mary: Mother? Sister? Say mother.

Stan: Fiance.

Mary: What?!

Marshall: Whoa!

Mary: Stanley, up top! [Mary and Marshall hold up their hands for a high five] Come on. No? [high fives Marshall]

Stan: Ex-fiance. I mean, to be clear, she is now his ex-fiance, all right? And I had no idea they were involved when we got intimate. That's...

Mary: Look at him. Just standing there. Like we're going to just leave it at that.

Marshall: Adorable.

Mary: [voiceover] There are times in your life where all you can do at the end of the day is turn out the lights, flop on the bed, and throw in the towel. Raise the white flag. For some that kind of surrender is hard to even contemplate and harder to accept, and there's a dignity in that, in fighting to the finish, to the red-faced bitter end. But in those moments, in bed, right before the lights go out, solace can be found. The very act of giving up becomes a starting point. You clear your head. You still your beating heart. You navigate the rocky shoals, setting out again. Call it surrender or serenity, it doesn't matter which, because the thing you never thought you'd do or say or ever have to face, becomes more than what you have to do. It becomes the way it is.

Mary: Hey, Brandi. It's Mary. But you know that 'cause the caller id would say it on the thing. Plus my voice. Anyway, I'm having a baby. So... Mom will get this message too, right? That was officially a pregnant pause. Okay. Talk to you later.

Mary: [voiceover] Back at our Lady of Immaculata, the nuns taught us that getting into college and/or heaven was a matter of sitting up straight, shutting your mouth, and keeping your eyes in the front of the class. But the sisters' best intentions didn't always pave the way to the Ivy League, let alone the afterlife. The fallacy is believing that being good means doing well. That walking the straight and narrow, minding your P's and Q's, and following the golden rule will, in the long run, reap rewards.

Mary: Are you kidding me? It's Goofus & Gallant in there I get the easy one. The backseat's the least I could hope for; I'm looking for the trunk.

Stan: Good. That's good. Good deal.

Mary: As for your smug little attitude, I'm not so much bothered by it as I am memorizing it. You know, for when this all blows up in your face.

Stan: There we go.

Mary: And for the record, just because my boobs are so big Dolly Parton could sue for silhouette infringement, doesn't mean I'm some delicate flower, some porcelain doll.

Marshall: You know, a layer of porcelain is incorporated into the shell of most modern tanks as an anti-explosive.

Mary: Look, this isn't new. This is no big deal. We've been pushing them out since time began. In mangers, in taxicabs, out in the fields. You think this is going to stop me from doing my job? [phone rings] Watch. [looks at phone] Damn it.

Marshall: What do you got?

Mary: Ultrasound appointment.

Marshall: [deadpan] Have fun.

Mary: [voiceover] Scientists and scholars and poets and priests can argue the particulars, but who's to say, really, how children raised in the exact same house can turn out to be so drastically different? Forget nature or nurture. My guess is it's the luck of the draw. And that's the scary part. How smart they are, if they can read a map, or carry a tune, it's mostly out of your hands. Just add water and hope for the best. Because in the end, as it is in the beginning, a child is going to be who a child is going to be. All it'll be for sure is a reminder, a constant reminder of who you are, and where you've been, and how far you have to go.

Mary: [voiceover] The getaway, I guess, is in my blood. Away from the screaming chaos of my childhood home, I would fly out the door and hop on my bike, white knuckling the handlebars with nowhere to go, I'd pedal as fast as it took to feel my hair in the wind and the sting on my face. Whether I wanted to be found or just missed, I'm not sure. But no one ever sent out a search party. Those frantic, furious bike rides never took me more than a few miles from my house. But it was far enough for me to learn that I could get back on my own. And that sometimes the best way to find yourself is to get yourself lost.

Carlos: Your loved ones hurt you when you were a child. It made you fear getting close to anyone because they may hurt you too.

Mary: My family wasn't perfect and kids are hardwired from an early age. I mean, I've seen more...savvy insight on $2 t-shirt and novelty mugs.

Carlos: Now you have a child on its way. And a very important choice to make.

Mary: Says who?

Carlos: The universe.

Mary: [to witness] Look, of course you're right, she had her shot, and there's nothing more soul sucking than forgiveness, but sometimes you just have to take a deep breath, and close your eyes and fall on your sword. Look, family's never perfect. All it is, really, is yours.

Mary: [voiceover] Those things we love in childhood, whether it's taking off on your own or playing the oboe, they're planted deep in the ground with you. Which is why true transformation takes more than hot rocks and drum circles, wandering the woods for a sign or a path. But I'll say this: Robert Frost had it right about the road less traveled, because not knowing where you're headed leads you sometimes to right where you belong.

Mary: [voiceover] The summer after first grade, my neighbor taught me how swim. Mrs. Duane, on dry land, was a sumo-sized single mom and CPA. But five feet from the edge of the shallow end, she was my own personal safe harbor. Holding out her stay-puft marshmallow arms, she'd say, "close your eyes, count to five, take a breath, and jump." What came next was a frantic mix of kicking and gulping and bubbles and gasps. Slowly, but somewhat surely, I made it through my turquoise-colored panic and into her waiting arms. Not because I wasn't scared. Because she wasn't.

Marshall: Let's move in together. You, me, and Oscar.

Abigail: Okay. I'll give notice tomorrow.

Marshall: I'm serious.

Abigail: So am I.

Marshall: It's not too soon?

Abigail: Marshall, he's a dog. He'll adjust.

Marshall: "Luke" now. Interesting.

Mary: What's interesting? It's his name.

Marshall: You two went to lunch?

Mary: I had to eat. He was there. Whatever.

Marshall: You make it sound so romantic.

Mary: Romantic? Marshall. Look at me. Babar's sexier than I am.

Marshall: Pregnant women are only less attractive to men who have never... consummated with one.

Mary: Oh. What?

Marshall: No. I mean, it wasn't my baby.

Mary: Blech, Marshall. Gross. Look, if you're into that stuff, find a website.

Marshall: No, it's complicated. I was in college.

Mary: Okay, you need to stop talking now. What is all this? What, you got a mope angling for new digs? Uh, it's, uh...

Marshall: It's not for a witness. It's for me. For me and Abigail, actually.

Mary: You and Abigail. Interesting. So who's renting the u-haul?

Marshall: Still sorting that out. We've both gotten pretty set in our ways.

Mary: Yeah, well... How set in her ways could a 12-year-old get, right?

Marshall: Point is, my place doesn't feel right to her, her place doesn't feel right to me.

Mary: Hmm. That's odd. I mean, Abigail's so neat and girly, and you're so neat and girly. Well, you know what I think.

Marshall: It's not a sign that we shouldn't move in together. It's a--a glitch.

Mary: A glitch.

Marshall: A bump.

Mary: A bump. Huh. Here you go. How about this place? The prairie-style one. It's perfect.

Mary: [voiceover] Ask any aquaphobic six-year-old. There are benefits to staying out of the pool. You get to mock the nose plugs and the kickboards, eat ice cream without watching the clock for 30 minutes after. And the dry itch aftermath, the bleachy stench of chlorine is someone else's cross to bear. But sitting poolside as others splash around can tempt even the most timid. If you're feeling brave, you close your eyes, count to five, take a breath, and jump. And you hope that someone stronger, more currently reliable-- your own sumo-sized CPA-- will be there to pull through the kicks and the gulps, the bubbles and the gasps.

Mary: [voiceover] I heard this lame-ass, late-night radio shrink once who claimed he could tell everything about you from the car you drive. Your education, or lack thereof, your income, race. He even had a best-guess at the busyness of your sex life, or lack thereof. Everything you are, reduced to make, model, and the choice of air freshener hanging from your rearview. Guy gets an advanced degree in "you are what you own" t-shirt wisdom. His parents must be proud.

Marshall: Um... listen. We don't have to get into this if you don't want, but all this with the Templeton's, the adoption, that's all... set in stone?

Mary: Are you serious? Oh, my God, get in line. Tell Brandi and Jinx I say hi.

Marshall: Hey, I just thought, I don't know, this Grace situation might've churned up some second thoughts for you.

Mary: Well, obviously, it's churned up some second thoughts for you. You clearly think I'm making a bad decision.

Marshall: No, just a hard one. Look, whatever you're going to do, I have total faith that it'll be the right thing for you, for everyone. But it's hard for me to stand here and go on about being here for Grace no matter what without making it clear that the same thing goes for you, times ten. No matter what.

Mary: Marshall, seriously. Look at his face. It's like a Pug got tossed in the dryer.

Mary: [voiceover] They say you can't buy happiness. What you can buy are the trappings of happiness: sports cars, mansions, friends in high places or in low ones, depending on the view. But all we truly own, ultimately and everlastingly, are the various people in our messy lives. This often has little to do with happiness.

Brandi: What's up? You get some bad news?

Mary: No, I just...Cancelled my meeting with the Templetons. It's the adoptive family.

Brandi: What does that mean, "cancelled"?

Mary: I don't know. I just...Well, all I know is I don't need to know tonight.

Mary: [voiceover] I've always been mystified by the mindset of makeup: age-defying, firming, regenerating, micro-sculpting, putting car payments worth of your paycheck into a three ounce bottle. I'm amazed. Honestly, it's like I'm on safari. I mean, I get it. On some level you want to change, hide, feel what it's like to be just not you, if only for a night, but at the end of the day, as your haggard reflection will tell you every time, the makeup comes off and all that you're left with is exactly who you are.

Stan: We're moving the witness. This thing is done.

U.S. District Attorney: McQueen, I can call Washington, get them to okay an alternate juror. You can't shut this down!

Stan: Yeah? I'm a U.S. Marshall, counselor. I got jurisdiction in fifty states, plus territories, and right now I got a witness to protect. You want to call D.C., be my guest!

Abigail: You scared me.

Marshall: I scared you? For me it was the sniper fire. Ow.

Abigail: Don't a baby. Let me get the glass out.

Marshall: Sorry you got dragged into this sub-optimal situation.

Abigail: Well, I'm not sure I mentioned it, but in my off-time I do a little detective work. Dead bodies, flying bullets, kind a part of the job description.

Mary: [voiceover] There's a phenomenon some people experience, those who've lost an arm or a leg, called "phantom limb". They feel pain, heat, cold, even movement, despite the fact that, strictly and scientifically speaking, there is no "there" there. It's as if the body can't accept that something so essential so natural a part has moved on... The memory of what had always been there so strong that even in its clear and sudden absence, the connection cannot be denied.

Delia: [to Marshall] Listen, after you meet with your witness I was thinking we could duck and hide on the answer.

Mary: Aw, have you two deskmates developed your own little secret code language? So sweet. Excuse me while I puke on this puke.

Marshall: We're taking about Stan.

Mary: What about him? Whoa, whoa. Back up. Is there Stan gossip? I'm on the sidelines six months and you withhold? You know I live for Stan gossip! All right, hit me.

Marshall: Stan McQueen has taken a lover.

Mary: No! Oh my God, this is huge! And ew! Is she cute? Is she fat? Tell me she's fat. Hold on! Is it someone we know? Brief me! Down to the last, dirty detail.

Dr. Shelley Finkel: The pregnancy was unplanned?

Mary: Uh, yes. Not that it's any of your business. I'm sorry, what does my family planning have to do with the shooting?

Shelley: I don't know, but 39-year-olds don't tend to have accidents with birth control.

Mary: Did you see that? That was the you know. That was the "personal event."

Marshall: Yeah, and he was humming. Humming!

Mary: Exactly. Sure, Stan's a positive guy, chipper; I mean, hell, he's a jolly, white George Jefferson, but he is not a hummer! That came out wrong.

Mary: I'm ready to talk about the shooting. It was horrible, he deserved it, and I'd do it again.

Shelley: But it hurt you to hurt him.

Mary: I didn't hurt him, I killed him. I had to, to protect Stan, to protect Marshall, because that's what I do. I protect people.

Shelley: Which is why you didn't make an adoption plan for Norah.

Mary: She was so tiny, so fragile, but most of all, she was mine. I just felt like, feel like, I just realized no one could protect her like I would; like I can.

Mary: [voiceover] Children are our phantom limbs. Even when they leave, they're never really gone. They come back from time to time for laundry or a shoulder or a fist full of cash... To dance with you at the wedding of a friend. And those sleep-deprived whirling dervish early days that you swear will never end... Somehow they do. Then you blink, look up, and you find a boyfriend with a beard and a U-Haul on the lawn.

Mary: [voiceover] Psychologists say children believe in magic because their brains can't grasp the limits of natural law. As a kid, I tried to bend spoons with my mind like a magician I saw once on Saturday morning TV. It broke my heart when it didn't work. If I couldn't think a spoon into a knot, how could I will my mother to put down the vodka long enough to cook dinner, or wish my father into coming home to eat it? Beginning again. Some witnesses embrace it the chance to start fresh, to leave whatever baggage behind. For others, though, change means a dizzying loss of control. They cling to their baggage like a flotation device.

Marshall: So, Norah, tough first day?

Mary: You know she doesn't understand, and even if she did she couldn't answer. You know why?

Marshall: 'Cause she's a baby?

Mary: She's a baby.

Marshall: They're like sponges at this stage. She must have picked up something.

Mary: I'm so tired. You know what I need? A stay at home wife. Gay marriage, that's not legal yet?

Marshall: There's always a statewide referendum. You want a hand?

Mary: I got it. You know what, just take the diaper bag. And my other bag. [picks up Norah's carrier] Honestly, just pick me up.

Mary: [voiceover] What is unleashed in the soul when we love outside ourselves is sharp, unexpected and beyond words. Love turns smart people stupid and conjures courage from thin air. That we can love so wildly, so recklessly, yet feel it in tame ways of every day is something of a miracle. For some, a miracle ordinary or otherwise, would take a miracle. Still, there's room for repentance; there's hope, if only in glimmers. For others, hope is all there is. Love, miracle, hope, not my kind of words, but I find as life pushes relentlessly on that they nudge their way in and set up shop; undeniable as moon tides. Pie in the sky magical thinking is replaced by grounded, grownup sense of wonder, and the reality that something as simple as a sunrise can still surprise you.

Mary: [voiceover] Somewhere between the primordial soup and the dirty cell phone pic, our minds invented a sneaky way to course-correct for our mistakes and disappointments. Leon Festinger called it cognitive dissonance. Worst part is it works, if only for a while.

Mary: [looking at a horse] You can't trust them. The ratio's off; too much animal for that little brain. You know it's like a lemon?

Marshall: You'll be fine.

Mary: I'll be fine, but will he be fine? [to the horse] One false move and I turn you into a duffel bag. Got it?

Mary: [referring to their guide] She's pretty. Pretty young.

Marshall: I hadn't noticed.

Mary: Really? You hadn't noticed her shameless flirting?

Marshall: I'm kind of focused on the manhunt.

Mary: Here's what I don't get: when did you become the George Clooney to the Veronica Mars set?

Marshall: You've got a little venom on your chin.

Mary: [voiceover] The mind's ability to fool itself knows almost no boundaries, but eventually the lucky among us come to our senses, the smoke fades, and we see things for how they really are. Whether by words of wisdom or the flicker of a flashlight, we muddle through the fog, landing on the long and winding road we're meant to travel. However baffling, we learn to trust the path or at least stay on it, and having no earthly clue where it's heading means we'll never be lost. At least not for long.

Mary: [voiceover] According to my memory of sixth-grade social studies, 200 something years ago, our founding fathers fought for certain inalienable rights Free speech, the pursuit of happiness, the simple chance to have a choice. But there's such a thing as too many choices. I long for the days of three TV channels. Experts call this the paradox of choice, where having too many options can lead to the wrong one, or to the worst one making no choice at all.

Mary: [to Marshall] I don't care what you say, Stan gave you the hothead heave-ho and not me. That's it, every year on this date we're having cake!

Mary: Wait a minute, what? The guy who couldn't stand to be in the same room with John suddenly is simpatico? Oh, I see. You've got it too: the Betty/Veronica complex. The blonde work wife, the underage, brunette girlfriend.

Marshall: Did you just call yourself my work wife?

Mary: [whispers] I think I did. [makes a face]

Mary: [voiceover] Everyone thinks they want freedom, or at least they say they do. The chance to choose whatever they want. But choices come with consequences. Every time you make a choice, you also take a risk. Risks that, for better or worse, alter your options for the rest of time. Options. Coke or Pepsi. Betty or Veronica. The wife you leave at work or the one you come home to at the end of the day. Some people think they can have it all. I don't get that.When did having enough stop being enough? And even if you did have it all, where the hell would you put it?

Mary: [voiceover] This witness once told me there's truth in fairy tales. The problem with fairy tales... and I tried to explain this to him... is that they end too soon. They are, at best, a prologue for the messy chapters to come. Sure, Snow White and Prince Charming may do "happily every after" for a while. But then she comes home to find him banging Rapunzel in the big bed and you've got a different story. There's no truth in fairy tales, not really. Know how you can tell? They're called "fairy tales."

Mary: [breaking up a fight between a civilian and witness] All right, cool it, both of you!

Angry Father: Who the hell are you?

Mary: I'm a sleep deprived mom with a Glock and an itchy trigger finger. Next question.

Mary: I've got this dinner with Raf.

Marshall: Raf? When did this happen? You didn't mention that?

Mary: [pointing out Marshall's not telling her he proposed] Oh, by the way, I got engaged. The Isotopes hired him as some kind of coach.

Marshall: Okay, so this dinner/date, is it dinner or a date?

Mary: Dinner with Raf and his wife. Yeah, that's right, he dropped the wife-bomb on me and then ran for cover.

Marshall: You didn't cancel.

Mary: Why would I? I broke up with him. Anyway, he's a friend, I want to see how he's doing.

Marshall: Don't think so. No, I think.

Mary: Here we go.

Marshall: -- you and Raf didn't work out so how, pray tell, did the story end?

Mary: Shoot me now.

Marshall: You don't do well with unresolved. Understandable, given your decided lack of resolution with your father.

Mary: Okay, Freud, kick back and get your feet up. You know, sometimes a cigar is just a cigar.

Mary: [voice-over] There's a reason we outgrow fairy tales. Let's face it: happily ever after is a crock, it's a con, a shell game for the sucker on the street. They're just words, pretty words, the equally empty book end to "once upon a time," but our lives aren't determined by some storybook, star-crossed destiny. They're not determined by what we're told is meant to be. Our lives are determined by dumb luck, the actions we take, and the courage we summon at our moments of truth. Unlike fairy tales, real life doesn't come with "the end" in gilded cursive on the very last page. Our stories never end. Happily ever after, for most of us, is really just the beginning. There's a million ever-afters in everybody's lives, because every time you think you've reached the finish line, the gun goes off again.

Mary: This is bullshit, Stan. I'm a WITSEC inspector. If I wanted to be a douche bag special agent, I would have gone to douche bag special agent school!

Stan: I'm not saying you have to do it.

Mary: Look, I don't expect much out of DOJ, but is this office seriously going to bite down this hard on a big fish story peddled by one of its most wanted?!

Marshall: Listen, my dad is in town for the weekend.

Mary: I know.

Marshall: And his arrival, totally planned, it's thrown me. Just him showing up.

Mary: What's your point?

Marshall: Your dad showed up unannounced, out of thin air, and you're having to be professional at a time when personal issues, for years deeply personal issues, well let's just say "thrown" doesn't even touch it. Mary, talk to me.

Mary: I've been talking all day.

Marshall: Yeah. Okay.

Seth Mann: Do you know what your mother would say if she were here? Abigail is the girl we'd always hoped you would bring home.

Marshall: Thanks, dad. You know, I can't help but notice that ever since you retired that the old, gruff you is MIA.

Seth Mann: I'm not finished.

Marshall: There he is.

Seth Mann: The thing is, in marriage there is no guess work, and who you're there for at four in the morning, that's the one. So you've got to ask yourself, is Abigail the girl you always thought you'd bring home?

Mary: I remember when I was seven, almost seven, I remember asking someone "what's the point of a partner if you're just going to do it yourself?" My whole life I think I haven't understood that word. Not really. I don't know. I just know a partner doesn't leave you on the doorstep; he follows you there, even at four in the morning.

Marshall: I wonder what you're dad would say about that.

Mary: The same thing he always said: never trust your partner.

Mary: [voice-over] Everything's mythical when you're seven-years-old: fathers, mothers, Santa, God, the alleged protective powers of a gold medallion. It's not that certain things seem larger than life, it's just life seems larger, but the world keeps spinning and in a tiny thousand surrenders, or sometimes in one fell swoop, what you'd seen as truly miracle you learn is merely myth. The good news, if you can call it that, is that ultimately you find other myths to believe in, and other men as well. You see the myth for what it is: close up and in its bones, smaller and greater and more like you than you care to admit, and it nevertheless leaves you, always, every single time, sitting foolish on the doorstep awaiting its return.

Mary: [voiceover] Ask an artist how he knows he's finished with a painting, and odds are he'll say you never really know. I read somewhere Picasso used to touch up paintings on living room walls smudges on canvas he'd sold years before. Like his relationships, like all of ours, his paintings lingered unfinished, somewhere between not quite dead and pulsing with life.

Mary: Hey, so if I were someone who could tell these things, how could I tell if these were fake?

Marshall: Ever gotten faux jewelry from a guy?

Mary: I've never gotten jewelry from a guy, and don't say faux.

Mary: [voiceover] Everyone always says life isn't fair. Bad guys get away with the goods and the good die young, but we carry on anyway, because what other choice do we have? In the face of unfair, we carry on, holding on and bracing ourselves and only sometimes forgetting that there's another storm right around the corner. But life, I find, is often more about the storms than the peace they seek to overwhelm. They lurk, ready, any minute now, to shake things up and take your breath away.

Abigail: So it was just the two of you at the funeral home. Wow. Intimate.

Marshall: It's her father, Ab. She's my partner.

Abigail: Marshall, I need you to remove the phrase "she's my partner" from your arsenal. I know she's your partner.

Marshall: My arsenal?

Abigail: I don't want to be that girl. Don't make me that girl. The insecure -- yes, she's your partner and she is your friend. Your best friend.

Marshall: You've got to understand --

Abigail: When do we come first? I mean, Marshall, skipping an appointment to meet with our minister?

Marshall: I wasn't skipping.

Abigail: Cancelling. Last minute because Mary needs you. Again.

Marshall: Look, Mary and I --

Abigail: I get it. You know what? I don't get it. I don't even think you do, not really, and until you do, until you figure this out, I think we need to put any appointments with ministers, any anything with ministers, on hold.

Marshall: Abigail.

Abigail: Marshall, I love you. This isn't jealousy. This is important for me, important for you. Just talk to her.

Marshall: This, what we have, it's undefinable, and up until now nothing's ever come along to jeopardize that.

Marshall: Yeah. I'm getting married. I love Abigail deeply, and because I do that's why I need you to do something for me.

Mary: Anything.

Marshall: I need you to release me. I need to be free enough to have a life with Abigail, and I need you to be okay enough for that to happen, because if you call I'll come. Every time.

Mary: Well, I don't know a lot these days. All I know is that more than anything in the whole world, I want you to be happy. So, I'm going to say this once and only once: I want you to marry Abigail. She makes you happy. I like her and I like you together. I know, I hide it well.

Marshall: Yeah. Okay. So, shall we get on with the rest of our lives?

Mary: You first.

Mary: Douche bag. I can't believe you buried the lead.

Marshall: With all that's gone on this week, my making chief hardly makes the lead. It's ancillary.

Mary: Don't say ancillary.

Marshall: Why not?

Mary: I don't know. It's annoying.

Marshall: It's the exact word for what I'm trying to convey.

Mary: Don't say convey.

Mary: [voice-over] Nobody likes letting go. From our earliest moments, from birth until we're six feet under, our instinct is to grab, grip, cling to a finger, bottle, best friend, to a faded old racing form. Sometimes we hold on for dear life to the very things that keep us from living it, but that comes with an upside. It's the way we feel when we finally let go. The trick, I guess, is to not find a way around the curveballs life serves up, but to live with them; a halfway happy, uneasy alliance, and to search for new things to cling to, and when you finally find them to hang on just as tight. And around and around we go, holding on until the time comes to say goodbye, and like it or not, ready or not, you have to accept one universal truth: life is messy. Always and for all of us. But a wise man once said, maybe messy is what you need, and I think you might be right.